Stuck on London Time
by Babatomyfriends
Summary: Mondler's beginnings - the next level (secret period until the big reveal). Sequel to 'Still on London Time in New York', still strictly canon/no AU, with extra/extended scenes and a lot of smut, and also with a (hopefully) slightly cooler title. Reviews are very welcome, but please don't feel obligated or pressured in any way. Just enjoy! And see you in my traffic stats.
1. Secret Girlfriend

Finally he had a girlfriend again. It felt so good. Screw that. It felt amazing, awesome, it was the best feeling in the world. He had never realized until now just how much he had wanted it before, longed for it in fact, dreamed about it even.

True, this time it was a little different. He had never had to keep it secret before. From his very first girlfriend on he had always carried his heart on his sleeve, run around telling everybody about it, practically shouting it from the rooftops. Even with Janice. Especially the second time they had tried, when he had consciously and fully determined made an effort to commit to her, shut out all her annoying habits and traits and firmly concentrated on making their relationship work. He was very glad that it hadn't worked out, but for a while they had really succeeded – so much that it had even Joey quite worried. And it had felt great while it lasted, had made him feel so safe and content. And confident too, so much in fact that he wanted nothing more than to show off to people, rub their noses in his happiness, boast and gloat all day long. It was the best feeling in the world.

He couldn't do that with Monica however. Not only because their – was it really a relationship already? – was still secret, but also because it still seemed to be in some kind of test phase. He still wasn't sure, couldn't be really convinced that he was good enough for her, that he came up to her standards, that he really was everything she needed. He still felt that one false word, one wrong step, one screw-up too many could destroy everything. And leave him with nothing, or even less than nothing – he'd be so much worse off than before. She was so unbelievably hot, pretty much everything he had ever wanted, that the prospect of having to start over was too much to even contemplate. It had been hard even before her, how could he ever hope to find someone as hot and passionate after her? Would he even want to? He had always considered himself to be a late starter. It had taken him twenty-three years to lose his virginity and still six more until he felt he could pass himself off as a reasonably decent lover. Now that he was thirty, it was bound to get harder still. It would be far easier for her to find someone new than for him, he was sure about that. And far easier for her to get over him than for him to really let go of her. If it should ever come to that.

And did all that mean that he loved her? A year ago he would have said yes he did, would have been quite sure about it too, no doubts whatsoever. Like when he had been so sure that he loved Kathy when he had in fact only talked himself into it, had let his frustration about their situation escalate out of proportion, and it had ended with him putting her on a pedestal, idealizing her, and blinding himself to all the things that didn't conform with that dream image of her. He had convinced himself that she would be perfect for him if only he could have her, never realizing that he was more in love with the romantic image of the two of them sacrificing their love for friendship. That he had shared all his feelings with the others – except of course Joey when the best way to handle it should have been the exact opposite – had made things so much worse. The appallingly swift and easy way their relationship had folded like a house of cards at the first bump in the road had taught him to be more careful with his declarations of feelings that were in fact unfounded, had no solid basis other than illusions and dreams. And so while he did care for Monica deeply, wanted to be with her always and to make her happy, always desired her more than anything else, he still kept hesitating to label all those feelings as love. Not yet, that was, it was still too soon. What they had was still so fragile, so easy to damage. There would be time enough for that later. If this really worked out. They had come so far already with taking it one step at a time, hesitating and groping in the dark for the next foothold, occasionally stumbling on the way. But it needed a lot more work still.

Meanwhile he was still proud. Oh dear god, so proud and so enormously happy about what they had achieved. And thoroughly charmed with the thrill of it all, the fun they had fooling the others, conducting their affair right there under their noses without any of them getting wise to them. It wasn't easy, but somehow the problems, the precarious situations they often found themselves in, the need to wait for a chance to meet only added to the excitement, made the whole thing even more precious and valuable. And yes, addictive. So much that he could no longer imagine what it would be like if it all was revealed and out in the open and they could be … normal again. A normal couple, being together in the eyes of everyone, doing normal couply things, living a real life instead of a dream – that was what he couldn't quite imagine for them. At least not yet. It was too soon. They had been together for almost a month now. Tomorrow it would be exactly four weeks since Monica had come to his room in London and they had started doing it, and on the following Sunday it would be four weeks that they had been doing it in New York, still on London Time. Not enough to get careless, but hey, far more than enough for him to be absurdly, madly, wildly, over the top, exhilaratingly happy about it. Four weeks, they had made it through four weeks already without screwing up – well, not quite without screwing up, but still without any serious damage. It made him want to sing. And dance of course.

Standing in the subway station waiting for his train Chandler inadvertently started to tap his feet, closing his eyes and grinning goofily. Yeah, life was really good right now. Swell in fact. Never mind that it was Mid-October, already getting dark quite early in the evening, and that it had been a long frustrating day in the office, with rain on top of it too. He would meet the others in the Perk – including Monica, since she was working the dayshift at the restaurant this week and moreover would have the weekend free – for coffee and a bagel or muffin, they would talk and later that night they would meet at either her place or his, depending on the situation. Then they would plan the weekend or at least the next meeting. And have sex of course. Lots and lots and lots of it. And spend a good part of the night together, talking, snuggling, or just sleeping until the alarm went. Then wait for the next meeting. And so on. By now they had established a tentative routine that seemed to work pretty well. So far at least.

When the train rumbled in Chandler snapped out of his daydream and got on board, ignoring the two teenagers that made faces at him and imitated his dance steps. He was too happy to be self-conscious or even mortified.

From the subway station he went directly to Central Perk, taking his briefcase along in case he had to plead work at home in order to get out of going to a movie or whatever else the gang had thought up. He and Monica had pretty much perfected their range of excuses by now. If they couldn't do laundry – their favorite - it would be work at home for him, or lunch with a visiting customer or executive from one of the branch offices of his company. Or going to the dentist and/or the doctor's for a check-up or even to the gym – that bothersome membership he hadn't been able to get out of now finally turned out to be good for something. Or he could always pretend that he had to buy something, like the new mattress he had got two weeks ago, actually together with Monica though none of the others knew about that. Buying that had really been a lot of fun, and the mattress had indeed turned out to be much better for sleeping on – and the other stuff of course – than the old, crappy one. But there had been other stuff he had only pretended to buy and hadn't, meeting with Monica instead and going at it, as always, and still as fiercely and ardently as in their first week, as if there was no tomorrow, never really satisfied and always hungry for more. There was another thing that never ceased to amaze him: that she still wanted to do it with him every single time and never once turned him down. With Janice it had almost always been a struggle to get her in the mood for it and by the time she was ready he was often too exhausted for more than a quickie. With Kathy it had been easier, at least after he had figured out how to get her going, but she never had had much time or energy to spare, funneling all of it into her work. More often than not she had come to him all worked up and high, leaving it to him too get her down again and calm her. That had often turned out to be quite rewarding too, but invariably he had felt that there was something missing from it all.

When he entered the café the whole gang was there already, as he had thought, with Ross on the easy chair, the girls on the couch – Monica at the end near the bar – and Joey at the little table next to her. It was perfect because that way he could get on the other chair at the table and place himself between Joey and Monica where they could look at each other and even touch their feet without anyone noticing.

They were all listening to Phoebe telling them the latest news about one of her clients who had a serious OCD that caused him have a nervous breakdown if she didn't massage him exactly the same way at exactly the same hour to the minute at each of their sessions. No one noticed him until he arrived at the couch and Joey saw him and waved. While they greeted him he placed the briefcase casually on the backrest of the couch just to the left of Monica's head so it hid his hand from view as he gave her a quick tickle on the neck. She responded by leaning back and trapping his hand between her back and the couch, and then turned her head up to grin at him, her eyes sparkling. When he withdrew his hand and shifted the briefcase a little, she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

So, work at home, just as he had thought. No problem. He smiled, put the briefcase under the side table and went to the bar to get coffee and a muffin. When he returned Phoebe had finished her story and they were all laughing, Phoebe most of all. As always since her return from Montauk he was amazed about how fast she had recovered from her pregnancy with the triplets and the birth especially, physically as well as emotionally. Nobody who didn't know her would ever think now that less than a month ago she had been so heavily pregnant she had hardly fit through the door, and always looked so tired and worn with it. After the birth she had been listless and depressed for quite some time, even after the week spent in Montauk, until they had been at their wits end about what to do to help her; but she had bounced back with amazing speed when they'd decided to catch up on that weekend in Atlantic City. It did the trick and had been a lot of fun too. He had not been able to get Monica alone much, but it had still been worth it. And there was an idea - maybe that would be something he could do with Monica one of these weekends, go away somewhere to spend two days all alone by themselves. Celebrate another week that they made it through without getting caught.

Now Ross told them about his latest efforts to get Emily on the phone and the desperate tricks and measures he had resorted to to track her down, phoning everyone who knew her all over England and having to deal with weird accents and dialects he had never thought to hear, let alone be able to understand. And Joey reluctantly agreed to help him to talk to the bridesmaid again that night and Rachel suggested that they should all pitch in and take turns on the phone at Ross's, making it a sort of party. Ordinarily he would have loved to be part of it, but of course the chance to be alone with Monica was too good to miss.

"I have to work" he said with what he hoped was a suitably regretful expression. "Got to prepare for an important meeting tomorrow – you know how it is. We really tried to get those guys to come over on Monday, but no, they really want it tomorrow. Didn't want to miss the chance to live it up in New York over the weekend, those geeks."

"I have to work too" Monica chimed in. "That new sous-chef gets everything wrong, so my boss asked me to come and breathe down his neck for a bit, to get his ass into gear. His words, not mine."

"Don't overdo it or he'll end up doing everything half-assed ..." he remarked.

"Or go ass over tea-kettle" Ross added gleefully. Immediately everybody joined in with ass related terms until Monica put her hands to her ears and begged them to stop. And then everybody finished up and they left the café together. While the others waited at the curb for a taxi, he and Monica headed off for home and grabbed for each other's hands as soon as they had turned the corner. They kept their hands entwined as they walked up to their building and went up the stairs to their apartments. There he ducked into no. 19 quickly to deposit his briefcase, coat and tie in his bedroom and check on the birds, then he came back out straight into her arms for a long deep kiss on the doorstep of her apartment. Still kissing they entered it, and he kicked the door shut behind them. They crossed over to her bedroom still holding each other and maintaining the kiss. In her bedroom they started to undress each other slowly, taking their time with it – it wasn't often that they had the luxury of time on such occasions, and when they did, they liked to make the most of it. Chandler actually let her fold his suit pants and shirt neatly over her chair and put his shoes under it instead of kicking them all over the room. Then they stood in front of the bed, close together with their arms wrapped around each other, savoring the moment, letting their bodies get reacquainted all over again. At last he nudged her a little and she let herself sink backwards on the bed while he went on his knees just before it and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face against her lap, kissing and nibbling at her mount. She sighed contentedly and then moaned, clenching her hands in his hair. When she drew up her knees, he gently pushed her thighs apart and held them down while he pressed closer and deeper and started to apply his tongue. Monica bucked against him and screamed, softly at first and then getting louder with each further stroke of his tongue. Chandler's head was swimming and he felt like he was losing himself in her, shutting out everything around him so he could funnel all he had to give on her. When she started to draw him away, panting and squirming, he almost didn't notice at first. At last he released her and she scooted backwards on the bed, drawing him up and over her urgently. Then he sank down on her and groaned when their bodies slid together and seemed to join almost by themselves without any assistance or effort from either of them. They started off slowly, holding themselves back as much as possible, only picking up speed when their arousal got too much for them. Now he was getting louder too, groaning and shouting like he had never been able before her without feeling acutely embarrassed. Monica had freed him of that and now he loved how it added to the excitement when there was no need to be quiet.

Just as he sensed her climax approaching, she dug her nails into his shoulders, shuddering, and the pain turned into a welcome distraction for him, enabling him to hold out a little longer while she rode out her orgasm to the last. Then he let go too, let himself fall and dissolve into her, relaxing until it felt like he would not be able to move so much as a finger anytime soon. He felt her hands on his back, stroking gently where her nails had just dug into his skin, and her calves and feet on the back of his thighs and buttocks. Somehow he found the strength to raise his head and search for her mouth, kissing her with his eyes closed, without any desire, just sweet tenderness. They remained like this for some time until he managed to heave himself up and away from her, stretching out on his back beside her like a beached whale. When her hand groped for his, he closed it around hers tightly.

As always she recovered much faster than he ever could, getting up on her elbow and running her other hand playfully over his chest while he was still catching his breath. But he managed to catch her hand in his and entwine their fingers.

"Friday no. 4 coming up" she said softly and he grunted assent.

"I can't believe it's been four weeks already. Four weeks!"

"Mmmhhm."

"One whole month. We should celebrate that."

"Mmmmh …. Mmmmh?"

"Hey, are you falling asleep on me?"

"Hmm? Um, no – I'm not asleep." But it actually was an effort to open his eyes again. Or at least one of them. Monica was staring intently at him and he smiled at her blissfully, almost closing his eyes again.

"Um, okay, celebrate – yeah, by all means. Let's."

"Can you be here at four?"

"I think so. Should be no problem. So?"

"Then I'll be waiting for you. With something special." Her eyes were sparkling as she lowered her head to kiss him. He drew her closer and over him, and gradually his weariness dissolved again, as he felt her trim body pressing against his.

"Something special? Like what?"

"You'll see" she grinned and then moaned when his hands slid down her back to her buttocks, cupping them, while his fingertips slipped between her thighs.

"Okay, then I'll … bring something" he panted, suddenly wide awake again, as her legs parted until she straddled his hips and started to rub herself against him.

"Like what?"

"Aahh ... umm ... You'll see."


	2. Secret Boyfriend

And now it was Friday, 4 p.m., exactly four weeks to the day, almost to the very hour of what they had started in that hotel room in London.

Monica was lying on her bed. Everything was ready. She had showered and put on her sexiest fragrance, the one Chandler claimed turned him into a wild beast. The blinds were lowered and she had put a red silk scarf on the bedroom lamp so the room was bathed in a soft red golden glow. Last but not least she had put on her 'something special'. It was black and clingy and seemed to consist entirely of laces and filmy shimmering fabric of essentially nothing.

She turned on her back and spread her arms wide, then drew up her legs a little and opened them invitingly, trying to imagine how it would go. He would knock on the door and come in, freezing on the spot while he took it all in, his jaw dropping and his eyes bulging. Then he'd shut the door, turn the key as a precaution if he didn't forget, and approach the bed, still open-mouthed, maybe even drooling (well not actually drooling, that would be too messy). He would put a knee on the bed and bend over her, or maybe even jump on the bed right over her, straddling her, and maybe moan and growl at her, and then they would kiss. He might actually take a few seconds to tear out of his clothes, but her guess was that he would go for her right away as he was. She would bury her hands in his hair as he let his lips wander all over her, snuffling in her scent, and sliding his hands over her breasts, as he went down on her. Then he would kneel between her legs and she would hook her legs over his shoulders and cross her ankles over his back, and he would lift up her hips groping for the buttons and find out how that black garment of nothing could be opened at the bottom, and then he would cradle her buttocks in both hands and press his face against her mount, snuffling, nibbling, licking her, just coming up again long enough to tear his shirt over his head and fling it away and then carry on. She would clench her hands in his hair and drum her legs on his back in her throes, convulsing and screaming uncontrollably as her arousal reached its peak. At last she would pull him up and over her and claw at the zipper and button of his pants, hooking her thumbs over the waistbands and push his pants and boxers together down over his hips. His penis, by then already fully erect and throbbing, would spring free and she would grab it and hold it, rub it a little, savoring the feel of it in her palms, its warmth, the way it quivered in her hands. She would brace her feet on the bed and raise her hips to hold the tip of his penis against her entrance, press it against her clitoris, stroke herself with it a few times, then let it slowly slide inside her, deeper and deeper, and it would fill her up, turn her insides to mush, to a hot quivering goo, would make her feel like no other man had ever made her feel before, never in all her life. He would bend forward and kiss her as he pushed deeper and she would taste herself on him as their lips pressed together and their tongues entwined. He would start to move, push against her, slowly at first and then harder and harder, and she would pump her hips against him, answering his every move, increasing their speed, until their climaxes would overtake them, roll through them, letting him collapse on her …

Just imagining it all turned her on so much already that they could probably skip the foreplay altogether when he arrived. By the way, where was he? Would he really be late again, on this day of all days? It was five minutes past four, maybe he wanted to make his entrance at 4.15 hours exactly, like she had in London in his hotel room …

But no, there was his knock. Bless him for being punctual. She took a deep breath and turned on her side, putting one knee up and toying at her cleavage with one hand.

"Come in …. I've been waiting for you …" in as sexy and promising a voice she could muster.

The door opened, and it was Rachel, not Chandler. Rachel, with her eyes on the bunch of mail in her hands that she was still sorting, and striding in –

"Hi, I just wanted - - - AAAHHHH, OH MY GOD, Monica, oh my god!" And she fled the bedroom with her hands over her eyes, in total shock. Monica who felt as if an ice cold shower had hit her, grabbed her bathrobe and ran after her roommate, confronting her in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry … I'm sorry - I - I was - was taking a nap!"

Rachel stared at her open-mouthed. "Since **when** do you take naps in **that** position?!"

Good question. And her mind was a total blank. Oh god, why why why did that have to happen, now of all times? What to tell her, what to tell her, would everything come out now? No, oh please no.

"Oh God Monica, tell me you were waiting for a guy! Please tell me you were waiting for a guy!" Rachel pleaded, almost in hysterics now.

"Yes. Yes, I was. A guy. From work!" The very idea made her cringe, but if this actually worked - "I'm seeing a guy from work! Ha!"

And bless her, Rachel swallowed it hook, line and sinker. All of a sudden she seemed to have gotten over her shock. "Ooohh, that cute waiter guy from your restaurant, the one that looks like a non-threatening Ray Liotta?"

Oh my god, not that jerk, who kept spelling "quiche" like "quicke" – and wasn't he gay too?

"Uh-huh, that one!" Anybody really, as long as she fell for it. And thank god, it actually looked like she had her convinced.

"Okay, just give me a second and I'll be out of your hair. I'm just going to grab a jacket, and when I get back, I want _every little detail_ …!"

There was the drawback. Now she would have to embellish the story, paint it in the most vivid colors imaginable just to satisfy her …

Her breath caught when they both heard a knock on the door.

"Maybe that's him!" Rachel smiled conspiratorially and actually went to open the door. Oh my god, oh my god …

"Okay, umm, okay, umm …" The door opened and – "It's just Joey and Ross." Today must be her lucky day. Unless there were any more close calls? Surely Chandler would have seen those two on the stairs? If he was already in the building and not delayed?

Joey made a beeline for her fridge as usual, and Ross was talking on his cell phone – thank god, he wasn't taking any notice of her in her bathrobe. Joey, who did notice, but for a wonder didn't comment on it, just scowled when Rachel asked why they weren't at the movie as planned.

"Ross was talking so loud on his phone they threw us out!" he grumbled.

"I **had** to talk loud because the movie was loud!" Ross spat.

"He's talking to London!" Joey shrugged. Yeah, figured. A wonder he wasn't broke already from the phone bill. And he still hadn't tracked Emily down, only some members of her family …

"I-I-I don't care if I said some other girl's name you prissy, old twit!"

… who had to bear the brunt of his temper instead. Yeah, right, way to suck up to the family – Joey was right on the money there.

And then Chandler finally entered, blissfully unaware, grinning happily and waving a bottle of champagne. His own "something special" to celebrate their fourth week. He caught sight of the others and froze in mid-grin, then changed gear with amazing speed. She never failed to be impressed by how fast he could think on his feet.

"I'm so glad you guys are all here!" He offered them the champagne bottle with his goofiest grin. "My office finally got wrinkle free fax paper!"

.

.

It was a wrench, but she had no choice – if she wanted to get changed, she had to let Rachel take care of the glasses for Chandler's champagne, while she escaped to her bedroom as unobtrusively as possible. Once there she hurriedly threw on her sweats over the sexy nothing and removed the red scarf. Saved once more. And by a hair's breadth again. If Chandler had come sooner – well, actually Rachel would never have walked in uninvited, but as sure as hell would have gotten an earful at least. Another lucky escape. One of these days their luck was bound to turn – it didn't bear thinking.

When she came out of the bedroom again, everything seemed under control. Ross was still screaming down his phone and Joey had switched his beer for a glass of the champagne, clinking with Rachel and Chandler at the kitchen table. When she joined them, Chandler offered her a glass and clinked her with his and for a long moment their eyes met. She tried to stand as close to him as possible and still make it look casual. The champagne was excellent, cool and smooth, with an exciting tickle as it went down. It was really a shame that Rachel and Joey had already almost had two thirds of the bottle between them. It would have been perfect for before and/or afterwards … Oh well, spilt milk. This wasn't the last champagne on earth and there would surely be other occasions to enjoy some.

Then Rachel was sidling closer again, with that dangerous shine in her eyes.

"So Mon, what about your secret boyfriend, shouldn't he be here by now?"

She shrugged, very conscious of Chandler's sardonic glance. "He must have been held up somehow. Why?"

"Well, if he makes it, give him my regards." Rachel put on her jacket again. "And remember, I want to know everything! Oh, I wish I didn't have to leave, but I've got an office thing – oh god, I'm late. Anyway, I'm sooo glad you finally have someone! I'm so happy for you!"

"Well … thanks. I'm not sure I'll tell him – but thanks …" she finished lamely. Rachel shot her a mischievous glance and left. Chandler grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Secret boyfriend?!" he asked innocently. Joey had wandered off again and was watching Ross as he argued on his phone, but still she didn't dare do more than glare at him.

"I don't care that your cousin's a divorce lawyer. He could be the queen's divorce lawyer for all I care. I want to talk to my wife! My wife! And I'm gonna keep calling until I can talk to her, you can write that down and chew on it! Write it – hello? HELLO? Did you hang up on - Oh no, oh god –" Ross was staring at his phone, shoulder's slumping.

"What is it?" Joey asked solicitously as Ross shook the phone and tapped it.

"My phone, it's dead … I need to recharge it. Great. Just great."

"Thank god!" said Joey fervently and Ross shot him a withering glance, then sighed. "Alright, I guess it's no use today anyway. Want to see if we can catch that movie at the next show?"

Joey jumped up wordlessly and almost shoved Ross out of the apartment. Monica just barely intercepted him at the door in time to retrieve her champagne flute from him. And then they were gone, and she and Chandler stared at each other as they realized that they were alone after all. She took a deep breath and grinned.

"Is there any champagne left?"

Chandler held the bottle against the light. "A little bit … here you go." He topped up their glasses, until nothing was left in the bottle, then drew her to him with one arm, while he raised his glass to her.

"To London Time." They took a sip and then almost simultaneously put back the glasses on the table and reached out for each other. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his shoulder, while he stroked her hair and held her close. She raised her head to kiss him, closing her eyes. And then giggled, when he came upon an edge of the black nothing under her sweatshirt and frowned at it.

"So what was that all about with the secret boyfriend?"

"Rachel walked in on me. She knocked – and I thought it was you …"

"Oh. Oh!" he grinned broadly. "Really? Good thing I was late then."

She cuffed him in the ribs. "It's not funny!"

"No, no you're right. Actually it's very serious. Do you realize that if the others hadn't come in, we would have been doing it now for half an hour already? This is unacceptable really. I shall take measures."

"Well, what are we waiting for then? Who knows when they'll be back …"

He smiled and began to steer her towards the bedroom, then remembered the glasses and took them up.

"Soooo – did you at least give Rachel an eyeful?"

"Oh yeah. She was totally shocked. Ran out as if she'd seen a ghost."

Chandler stopped in front of the bedroom, smiling dreamily. "Um, would you mind …?"

She laughed, took the glasses from him and kissed him briefly on the corner of his mouth.

"Nope. Just give me a minute."


	3. Do the Dance

It was shaping up to a perfectly normal and peaceful Saturday morning. Start of the weekend. Breakfast at Monica's. His favorite brand of cornflakes. Phoebe as serene and cheerful as usual, and moreover in apparently good health again. Rachel still asleep. Joey still on the phone with his agent, trying to make sense of her ravings. Ross still on the phone talking to someone in England – a wonder his cell wasn't permanently stuck to his ear yet – but still going about it in a quite polite and calm manner for a change, even when he got hopelessly entangled in those weirdly long numbers. The weather even a little sunny, a blessing after all that rain. Monica still looking hot as usual, but also so cool and unruffled that nobody would guess she had spent most of the evening of the day before and a good part of the night doing it with him, over and over, as if there would be no tomorrow, or in other words, as always.

And week four of London Time almost completed. It was a little early for fireworks, but still.

Could life be any sweeter?

Then Joey entered, resplendent in a tuxedo – a very familiar tuxedo at that.

"Oh nononononono – vomitux, no-no, vomitux!"

Oh god, he remembered it all so vividly, live and in Technicolor. Not that he wanted to. But he couldn't help it. Yeeeooowww.

But Joey apparently put all that behind him. "Don't worry, I had it dry-cleaned!" He smiled broadly at Monica who frowned at the tuxedo curiously.

"Vomitux -? Who vomited on … um, you know what, what's up, Joe?"

Never let it be said that she wasn't a fast learner.

Joey went on to explain that he was going on the PBS telethon and his agent had arranged for him to be co-host – hence the tux. Then Phoebe chipped in, complaining bitterly about PBS and the Sesame Street, who had never replied to her letter – apparently unaware of the fact that they couldn't have done so, because they didn't have thumbs. He got a slight warning cuff from Monica after that comment and decided to shut up again. Not that he would have stood a chance in the sparring match about selfishness that suddenly sprang up between Joey and Phoebe and that they chose to slug out with him stuck between them and getting more and more annoyed. In spite of his rather wonky argumentation Joey left the field as winner, with Phoebe fuming to be avenged. Monica had early on withdrawn to the easy chair with the paper. Very wise of her, but a pity, he would have liked to have footsies with her, or tickle the back of her knee unobtrusively under the table. Oh well.

And then Ross phone rang – with impeccable timing, since this must have been the first time that it wasn't busy this morning – and his eyes nearly fell from his head when he realized that it was –

"Emily? EMILY! Oh my god, it's Emily!"

Everything else was forgotten as they gathered around him, dumb and staring with surprise. Ross ran around like a beheaded chicken, shushing everyone, waving, picking up a lamp and giving it to Chandler who was at a loss for words for once.

"Emily everyone! Shush-shush-shhst!" He listened again, the phone pressed to his ear so hard Chandler thought it would start to smoke soon.

"No wait! Look, wait! Okay, you can hang up, but I'm gonna keep calling! I'm gonna, I'm gonna call everyone in England if that's what it takes to get you to talk to me!"

Hadn't he already done that? Maybe he missed out a few people in the Shetlands or the Orkneys. Nevertheless, things seemed to finally look up. Finally.

"She's talking!" Ross whispered exaltedly to them, but shushed them irritably when they tried to cheer him, albeit quietly, and then retired to the TV chair and when that was still too loud for him, to the balcony. Chandler carefully put the lamp back, only to have it picked up and put in its proper place a few centimeters to the side by Monica – oh well, only to be expected. Joey left for his telethon after one final crushing remark to Phoebe – something about Santa Claus, or was it the sanity clause? Both were equably improbable and thus fit the two quite admirably. He returned to the table to finish his cornflakes, but thought better of it, when Phoebe, still muttering, plopped down beside him and almost upended her teacup into his bowl.

"Unselfish deeds … Chandler, do you know an unselfish good deed?"

"Sure."

"And what is it?"

"Letting me finish my cornflakes …?"

Phoebe just glared at him balefully.

.

.

Some time later, after he had finished all his usual Saturday morning chores – well, just shopping for groceries and dropping off some dry-cleaning, everything else was just too much of a bother right now - he wound up in Central Perk, where Gunther had reserved the big couch for their Saturday noon coffees as always. He was the first one there and while he sipped his coffee and skimmed the paper he couldn't help wondering if Monica was still upstairs being grilled by Rachel and Phoebe about her new secret boyfriend. Just what would she tell them? Would she really be able to hold back and keep their secret? He knew from past experience – very painful experience – that the girls were used to share everything. Literally. So how long would she be able to keep their secret? And if she did keep it, what would she tell them instead?

But that kind of speculating made him crazy and he tried to distract himself by thinking up places where Monica and he could be having sex next. That always worked. So far their beds – both their beds now that he had a decent mattress – were still their favorites, but there were a lot of other places that they'd used at a pinch, and a lot of them had worked really well. Not much left around their building really. Oh, but how about here, in the café? They spent so much time here, it was high time he gave it some thought. Hmm. Toilets were out, he could never do it in there. The counter? Behind the counter? The couch? He'd love to try the couch, but they'd have to find a way to sneak into the place after hours, and for that they would need a key …

When Monica tweaked him on the back of his neck, he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Whoa! All lost in thought? What have you been thinking about?"

"Actually … I was thinking about how we could do it here. And where here."

"Oh." Monica sat down at the little table and frowned. "Here? Yeah, I guess it could work."

"The couch?"

She made a face. "Not so much. So many people sitting on that all the time … Actually, Rachel did it there once."

"With Ross?"

"God, no, he'd never do it here. No, with Paolo I think. On the couch – and oh yes, in the closet."

"Closet? What closet? Oh that? That's a closet?"

"Actually I think it's a storage room. For supplies and tableware and stuff. Rachel said that Gunther is afraid to go in there during opening hours ever since he walked in on people doing it once."

"Hmm. Interesting."

She grinned mischievously. "Oh yeah."

"So, did Rachel and Phoebe give you the third degree?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "What do you think? Well, Rachel did. Phoebe is still hung up about Joey. She had an idea for a good deed just now, at least I think that's why she ran out so suddenly. Rachel's bound to be here any moment, so keep cool please!"

"Of course I'll keep cool. When have I not – okay, I see what you mean."

Monica shot him a withering look and got up to get her coffee. Chandler picked up his paper once more, but instead of reading it he looked at the closet. Funny, how he had never noticed it before. How big would it be? Would they have to do it standing up?

He got sidetracked again when Rachel came in and curled up on the other end of the couch with her coffee, a dangerous glint in her eyes – like a kitten trying to get at the cookie jar.

"So Chandler …" oh so casually. "Have you heard about Monica's secret boyfriend?"

Cool, play it cool. "Uhh, yeah. She uh, might've mentioned him, yeah ..." He pretended to be absorbed in his paper again. Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"So Mon, when are we going to meet this new secret waiter man?"

Waiter? She said her secret boyfriend was a waiter?

"Ohh, he's really shy. I don't think he's up to meeting everyone yet."

"Yeah, I don't think he's up to meeting everyone yet." He confirmed, unnecessarily maybe, but it was so much fun to tease Rachel back and watch her getting worked up.

"I don't care! I wanna meet this guy who's the best sex she ever had!"

The best sex?! THE BEST?! He couldn't believe his ears.

"Really?! That's what you heard?" Oh god, let there be trumpets and cheers and fireworks. He turned to Monica with a huge grin on his face. The best sex she ever had? "You said that?"

"I might've said that." He didn't notice her expression, just heard the words. Yes! Yes, it was true! He couldn't help laughing, or rather cackling out loud. He was in full gloating mode now.

"Why is that funny?!" That and her cuff brought him down to earth again. Well, not quite, a part of him was still soaring the clouds. And still gloating.

"Because I'm very happy for him!" What did it matter anyway, they were used to him being weird. "And you, you lucky dog!" He cuffed her back with the paper and grinned broadly. What a day. What a great day.

Even Ross coming in at that moment with his usual long face and the news that Emily did want to patch up things – YAY - but only if he moved to London – oops - could not distract him for long.

"I don't know, I mean I can't leave Ben!"

"Well, you could just video-conference with him ..." he offered and winced when Ross stared at him. "I'm not ready to have a child …"

And then Ross got so hung up on this crazy idea to get Carole and Susan to move to London with Ben for him that even Monica could not dissuade him. After some more useless arguing Ross left to spring his idea to his ex-wife and Monica remembered that the telethon with Joey would start soon, so she and Rachel left again, while he stayed a little longer, savoring his success, reveling in it.

This was just too good. He knew that what he and Monica had was special, a lot more than he had ever dreamed of having, but it was one thing to believe it, and quite another to actually have it confirmed, and from someone else too – that was the best ever. It went quite a long way too to assuage his deepest fear – that she would break this off when she had enough – because why would she do that if he was the best she ever had?

The best she ever had. That meant, better than everyone she had ever been with. Everyone. Including Richard.

Really? Better than Richard? Oh no, that was guy #1 again. He hadn't heard from him since the day at the hospital 3 weeks ago, and had even hoped he'd chucked him for good. Nope, no chance of that.

Well, she said the best. That means better than Richard. Guy #2. The voice of reason. Too bad nobody ever listened to him.

You can't be sure of that. I mean, it's Richard! The Love-of-her-life-Richard!

But she broke up with him.

Only because he didn't want children. And it took her ages to get over him. In fact, she might still not be over him. Remember, how she slept with him again when they met again?

And broke it up again afterwards.

But if he should turn up again … who do you think she would choose? Seriously, who?

Chandler groaned. The two guys were driving him crazy. Couldn't a guy gloat in peace for a minute? Enjoy the rewards of his hard work? Celebrate his success? That was all he wanted to do just now, revel, enjoy, dance that happy dance … and show her how much it meant to him, how happy it made him.

There was an idea. Well, why not kill two birds with one stone?

When he entered Monica's apartment, the three girls were sitting around the living-room table talking. The TV was still off, so the telethon could not be on yet. It was perfect. No way she wouldn't believe him if he did it in front of witnesses.

"Hey, Monica? Can I ask you a cooking question?"

"Sure!" Oh, how cool she looked again. How calm and collected. He sat down next to Rachel and took a deep breath.

"If you're cooking on the stove, does that mean that your new secret boyfriend is better in bed than Richard?!"

Monica closed her eyes and winced. While he stared at her hungry for her reaction, ignoring Rachel's admonishing cuff, it turned out that Rachel wanted to know that too. Monica raised her hands in despair.

"Well, you know I - I think I'm going to respect the privacy of my new secret boyfriend."

Alright, here we go.

"Why?! I mean if this guy was **me** and it was **me** who had learned that it was **me** who was the best you'd ever had, I'd be going like this!"

And he jumped on the table and delivered his happy dance there and then, putting everything he had in it, grinning goofily with joy. He had everything down pat, the roll of the hips, the wagging of his ass, the twisting of his knees, the swaying of his arms, dancing in place so there was never any danger of upsetting that bowl of chips …

Of course the girls were less than impressed. Phoebe just rolled her eyes and then ignored him, and Rachel just watched him with an indulgent smile. Well, the dance hadn't been for their benefit anyway. He had done it for Monica.

Monica, who just sighed and shook her head. Monica, who then got up and went into the kitchen to fetch a cleaning rag. Who waited until he had finished and got off the table, and then wordlessly handed him the rag with a meaningful glance at the dirt his shoes had left on the table.

But he still counted it a success.


	4. Thou Shalt Not Gloat

Just what was it with guys and their constant need to act like jerks? Why did he keep reverting to that behavior, and always, always in front of the others? What in the world drove him to do that, even though he had to know that it was completely unnecessary, would impress no one, and moreover would make her too feel like a total fool?

It was at those times most of all when she was fiercely glad that they had managed to keep their relationship secret so far. Just seeing Phoebe roll her eyes resignedly and then ignore him made her want to sink in the floor. No matter that he was in truth the best sex she'd ever had, and not just the best sex – the best time ever. No matter that no one before him had managed to keep her aroused and excited all the time throughout four weeks – four weeks! - AND made her feel so comfortable and cherished at the same time too. They had had so many good times together, times when she could laugh with him, be happy and carefree, and, most importantly, herself. Still she just couldn't bear it when he went on one of his whims, decided to play the clown, made a complete fool of himself – went all Chandler in fact. It just was too much. It really irked her too, not only because Phoebe and Rachel never took him seriously – never had and never would – but because by belittling himself so much, by acting the fool, how could he take himself seriously? And how could she take him seriously if he didn't? And how could she go on believing that he was serious about her and their relationship?

And she needed him to be serious about it so much. He was so good for her, had done her a world of good already. She was very close to falling in love with him – at times she suspected that she already had – and she desperately wanted him to be someone she could love without qualms, without reservations, because he was worthy of it, because he was ... perfect. But how could she love him, when she was so ashamed of the way he acted in front of her friends? It seemed like every time he had won her over completely with his sweetness, his understanding, the way he made love to her, he would make a complete turnaround and show her that all this didn't count because he would always remain a fool at heart, a jokester, a jerk who could not be taken seriously.

They would have to talk about this. While she could not imagine that he really wasn't aware of how much his ridiculous acting irritated her, she thought that maybe he just needed a little push. An eye-opener. Just something to bring him down to earth again.

And yet she didn't really want to talk about this. Not while she was still so annoyed. Why couldn't he realize it by himself? He was certainly intelligent enough for that. Why didn't he see it? Why did he let himself be carried away so easily always? And would it always be like that, would she always have to explain it to him? Event thinking about it wearied her already.

Well, time enough for that later. For now she could let it go, since he had simmered down again and also cleaned the table quite nicely, and then there was the telethon to watch. Joey was nowhere to be seen though, and soon Rachel got bored and remembered that she had to do some laundry if she wanted to have something to wear next week. Phoebe was still racking her brain for a good deed that was also unselfish. And then Ross entered to tell them about his latest talk with Emily.

"So I asked Emily if she would come to New York, and she said yes."

Oh thank god, finally some good news. They all cheered, until Ross cut them off again:

"No-no-no! Only if I promise never to see Rachel again."

Oh my god. As much as she understood Emily's take, how would that even be feasible?

"What?! You can't—what did you tell her?"

"I told her I'd have to think about it. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to make this kind of a decision? I'm **actually** asking you!"

Yes, how could he, and how could they advise him? It was a pretty dilemma. He could not cut Rachel out of his life any more than they could, but he also could not expect Emily to put up with her.

If only things had worked out better with those two. It had started off so great, so magically, like a fairy-tale. She had been so depressed at the time Ross and Emily met, and watching them fall in love, courting across the ocean, and yes, helping things along and encouraging Ross – maybe a little too much, she realized now rather guiltily – had brought her out of her own gloom and put her on a high again. And if it hadn't been for Ross and Emily's whirlwind courtship and the wedding in London, she would still be where she had been half a year ago, still without Chandler …

"Thanks for the help, problem solved." Ross dropped down on the couch beside her, looking as disgusted with himself as much as with them, and her heart ached for him. Just then the phone rang and it was Joey, calling from the telethon. Apparently there had been a mix-up with his agent – so what else was new? - and now he was on TV without actually being on TV. Well, he managed to let them see his hand at least – unmistakable too in the tux sleeve – until his colleague slapped him away.

"Oooh, I got an idea! Be right back!" Phoebe exclaimed suddenly and shot out of the door, without even taking her handbag. Or her coat. Chandler left too, to check on the birds, or so he said, but she knew that it was actually an invitation for her to spend some time with him. For a moment she balked at this – wouldn't it be better to let him stew for a while? – but then she decided to have it over with, rather than watching Ross still brooding and hardly taking in anything else, or the telethon with Joey still off-screen.

When she entered apartment 19 Chandler was just admonishing the birds not to watch Emeril Live on the cooking channel and it almost made her laugh. Almost. And when he smiled at her so happily, she almost relented again. Almost.

"Listen, I need that broiling pan that Joey borrowed the other day …?" She didn't really, but it was as good an excuse as any. His face fell.

"Oh that was yours? Uh, yeah, we used it when the duck was throwing up caterpillars."

Actually she had suspected as much. For what seemed like the thousandth time she vowed never to let Joey borrow anything again, for all the good it would do.

"_William Sonoma_, fall catalog, Page 27" she said wearily.

"Expect it in 4-6 weeks" he readily assured her. And then:

"Hey, umm, Joey's going to be at the telethon for the rest of the day, we have the whole place to ourselves."

Here we go. "Yeah, so?"

He put on that gleeful smirk again.** "**Well I just thought maybe you'd wanna book some time with the **best** you ever had ...?"

Oh god. He was still soaring high, basking in his triumph. How to get this through to him, how to make him see …?

"You know what - Champ? I think I'll pass."

His face fell and he stared at her almost comically dumbfounded. "Why?!"

No, words wouldn't do, they weren't enough. Better let him taste his own medicine. "Why?" She jumped a little forward and then started to cavort and twist in place, imitating his dance and exaggerating it some more, making it as ridiculous and idiotic as it had looked to her.

Chandler grimaced as if he had bitten on a lemon and pushed his hands into his pockets.

"What's your point?"

Had he still not gotten it? Lord have mercy on us.

"With all that stupid gloating, would **you** want to sleep with you?"

For a moment it seemed that he did see, but then his defiance got the better of him once more.

"Well, I think I'd be a little out of my league, but I'd give it a shot!"

She threw up her hands. "Fine. Why don't you do just that, make yourself happy. I don't have time for this." And she rushed out before he could stop her, before the sudden white-hot anger could overwhelm her. Anger at him – but also at herself.

She thought she heard him call out after her, but ignored it and strode back into her apartment. Ross was still there, staring unseeing at the TV, and just shook his head wearily when she put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. She felt at a loss what to do. The bathroom needed to be cleaned, but she wasn't in the mood for it right now. Something to cheer them all up? Hmm, maybe cookies?

By the time she got out the bowl and had all the ingredients ready, Phoebe returned, in a sour mood and with a nasty swelling on her arm from a bee-sting, the result of another failure in her mission to prove Joey wrong. Ross suddenly snapped out of his gloomy meditation and took his leave, mumbling about getting something from his apartment to help him. While she and Phoebe got the dough ready, Chandler came back in, deadpan again and seemingly unconcerned.

"Oh, what you're making, cookies?" Thankfully Phoebe already slapped his hand away from the bowl with the dough before she had to. Then he noticed the swelling on her arm.

"Hey, what'd you do there?" Phoebe grimaced.

"I let a bee sting me. I thought it would be a good deed."

"A good deed? But the bee probably –"

"Died, yeah, I know, Joey told me that already. It was a crappy idea. But you should know what that's like."

"Me? Why? Yeah, I guess you're right." That actually made her do a double take.

"What's with you? And incidentally, why are you so excited about Monica's boyfriend?"

He put on his most innocent face. "Why, because I'm happy for her. She deserves the best! Doesn't she?" When he looked at her grinning she glared at him.

"Well, yes, obviously. But it almost sounds to me as if you'd like a piece of him too." Phoebe commented drily. Chandler threw up his hands resignedly and retreated to the couch.

"That's the Sonoma on the table" she called after him and grinned as he rolled his eyes. But then he actually picked it up and settled on the couch with it. For a while there was peace, with only the half-muted sounds from The Cirque du Soleil on the TV filling the time until the telethon came on again, and she concentrated on getting the dough right, with Phoebe adding the flour.

"Um, quick broiling pan question—" Chandler quipped from the couch.

More cooking questions? She shot him a withering look.

"Yes, it really does cost that much. Maybe next time your duck can puke in something from Pottery Barn." He actually winced at that and she enjoyed her triumph. For a moment at least.

Then Ross came back in, with a Magic Eight ball of all things that he actually expected to help him solve his problem. And Phoebe even backed him up by declaring that it was definitely not a toy. What was with everybody, was she the only sane person left around here?

"Well, I don't know what else to do. I mean, I either keep my wife and lose one of my-my-my best friends or I keep my friend and get divorced the second time before I'm 30! So if anyone has a better suggestion, let's hear it! 'Cause I got nothing! All right, don't be shy, any suggestion will do."

Chandler had gotten up from the couch and approached the table, and she studiously ignored him as he stood rather close to her. He had nothing to offer to Ross's problem either. Ross glared at them and then sat down at the table, addressing the Magic Eight Ball in his hands.

"Magic Eight Ball, should I never see Rachel again?"

They all held their breaths, craning their heads as he rolled it in his hands. She sensed Chandler bending forward behind her and shot him a warning glance that made him hurriedly withdraw his already outstretched hand and put it into his pocket again. Ross squinted at the script that had turned up.

"Ask again later. Later is not good enough!" He shook the ball violently and held it up again. "Ask again later. What the hell! This is broken! It's broken!"

Suddenly she had an idea that she just couldn't resist. "All right, let me see." She took the ball from him and held it so only she could read the message.

"Will Chandler have sex tonight?" she asked it, then turned it around and pretended to read the answer. "Don't count on it." Actually it didn't say that, but the expression on his face was just priceless. And totally worth it. "Seems like it works to me!"

Ross didn't seem quite convinced, but grudgingly tried one more time.

"Should I never see Rachel again?"

Of course Rachel had to enter at the exact moment, and once again the Magic Eight Ball judgement was avoided. Ross fumbled for an excuse that involved seeing a movie that actually no one except Rachel was interested in, and then left with his Magic Eight Ball as soon as Rachel had gone into her room to put her laundry away. Chandler too went out wordlessly, without even helping himself to some cookies, and she heard him slamming the door of his apartment as he went in. It gave her a pang and put a damper on her mood again. She curled up on the easy chair with milk and cookies, and watched more TV with Phoebe, until the telethon came back on. At this Phoebe finally hit on the one unselfish good deed that had been glaringly obvious all along and called Joey's telethon number to make a pledge. Only to have her plan backfire on her when it actually helped Joey appear on TV, which made her so happy it wasn't unselfish anymore. Which proved Joey right once more. There really seemed to be no unselfish good deeds. At least not today.

Rachel came back out, all set and eager to go to the movies, but Phoebe, who had by then abandoned her scheme, only wanted to go home. Rachel went over to apartment 19 to enlist Chandler and came back with a rather puzzled expression and shrugging.

"What's with Chandler? He said he'd rather play with the duck than go to the movies?"

"Figures …" said Phoebe absentmindedly and collected her bag and coat. Monica jumped up and went into the kitchen to collect her cleaning gear.

"Mon, what about you, wanna go to the movies? Oh … um, can't you do that later? Come on, it's Stella!"

"No. Sorry, but I'm really not in the mood for it." She snapped on her rubber gloves decisively to underline that statement. Rachel started to speak, then thought better of it and shrugged. "Fine. Have fun. I'll ask Ross."

Then she was all alone again, in the bathroom, wetting the cleaning rags, and then just standing there, biting her lip and clenching her fists, torn between anger and regret.

'Go to him' the regret whispered. 'It's not that bad. So he gloated a little. It's only natural for a guy like him. He'll be normal again and then you can be together again.'

'He needs to stew some more' her anger retorted. 'Otherwise he'll never learn. He'll get even worse.'

She violently rammed the toilet brush into the bowl as if she wanted to bore a new hole.

'But do you really want to give it all up just because he went all Chandler again? It's what he is. He can't help it. You have to accept it.'

'Maybe. But not now. It's too early. Later. After –'

Yeah, after she finished cleaning the bathroom. And got a grip on herself again.

.

As always the cleaning helped. By the time she had finished scrubbing the tub and polishing the tiles, she felt ready to face him again. Even if he still should be in gloating mode. By now she didn't care anymore.

But there was no need. Just as she left the bathroom to put her cleaning kit away again, Chandler came rushing in, panting as if he'd run a race. They faced each other in the kitchen and she had to struggle to keep her face expressionless at his anxious demeanor.

"Look, maybe I got carried away before. But there's something you gotta know. If I'm the best, it's only because you've made me the best."

She hadn't quite expected that.

"Keep talking ..."

Chandler spread his arms wide. "I mean I was nothing before you. Call the other girls and ask. Which wouldn't take long!"

She had a hard time not laughing at this, at his comical self-deprecation, and felt amazed once more by how easy it was for him to make her laugh. And be touched by his open candidness. When he came closer to her, still panting, eyes blazing, her breath caught a little.

"But when I'm with you - and we're together - OH…MY…GOD."

So it was indeed, with the earth moving and the angels singing, always, every blessed single time. For her. And for him too, how could she not have realized that before?

"Really?"

"OH - OH my God!"

That was what she had wanted, needed to hear. He hadn't lost his head and boasted about being the best of all, he was just happy – wildly, exhilaratingly, fantastically happy – about being the best for her. With her.

"Now, I understand if you never want to sleep with me again, but that would be wrong. We're too good!"

Yeah, it would be a real pity to give all that up. And just for pride's sake? And the opinion of her friends who didn't even know? Where was the sense in that?

"We owe it, to SEX!"

Now there was a concept she could relate to. Yes, there was so much they could still achieve, so much left to explore, and no time to lose any more. She put her cleaning box down and held out her arms.

"Well, if we owe it?" And she gasped when he somehow anticipated her and swept her up in his arms, exactly like she had wanted him to without realizing it. She loved being carried, swept off her feet and held tight, like a baby, like a treasure that was borne away … She held on to his shoulders, laughing and gasping.

"Oh my … When is Joey going to be home?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping we could do this without him" he said drily as he carried her to the door. And of course he was right. Time enough to worry about Joey later.

When she peeled off her gloves, he stopped her, waggling his brows suggestively. "Oh-no-no, leave the gloves on!"

Not a bad idea, if it weren't for -"But, I just cleaned the bathroom ..."

"Yeah, why don't we lose the gloves" he conceded and she threw them over his shoulder in the direction of the table. He stopped before the door and bent forward to open it, shifting her a little.

"All right, let's show them how it's done." Only to bump her head against the door at his next step.

"Ouch!"

"You know that wasn't part of it?" he asked worriedly.

"I know!" And she couldn't let it matter, not now. He proceeded into the hall and managed to open his door and carry her through without any more problems. They kissed in the kitchen and again in the living room, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders and closed her eyes, waiting for him to reach his bedroom and lay her down on his bed, and then himself on top of her …

But then he stopped just as he'd opened his bedroom door and when she opened her eyes, he was biting his lip, staring into the room. She turned her head and then groaned.

The chick was sitting on his pillow, busily pecking and scratching it to tatters. A good part of the feathers were already spread all over the bed and the carpet before it. But that was not the worst of it. The duck was standing on the middle of the bed, wings spread wide and the long neck stretched out before him, while he heaved and gurgled and heaved again … and then threw up before their eyes. Chandler gasped and involuntarily took a step back, banging her feet on the door post this time.

"Ooops – sorry. Um. Well, I guess the bed is out."

"Looks like it" she agreed bleakly.

"God, I'm an idiot, I should have shut the door …"

"What about my place then? And you can let me down now, before you rupture your back."

"Nope, I can handle it." And he did, carrying her bravely back to the kitchen and out into the hall, puffing just a little. Just before her door however he paused and his face took on a dreamy expression.

"What?"

"Just thinking – we should make this one special. Because you know. So how about the closet?"

"The closet? At the Perk? Now?"

"Why not?"

Why not indeed.

.

Ten minutes later she stood before the closet waiting for Chandler's signal. He had gone in first and she took a last look around the cafe to check that nobody paid them any attention. They were in luck, Saturday late afternoons were always slow in the Perk and there were hardly half a dozen guests around. The one guy at a table near the closet seemed to be totally engrossed in a magazine, never noticing her. Then Chandler opened the door a crack and she slipped in sideways, pushing the door shut again. There was no key, but Chandler had got a heavy box from somewhere that he now pushed in front of it. It was better than nothing.

The closet was rather small to begin with, 5 by 9 feet, and crammed to the ceiling with shelves on both sides. A little to the right of the door high up on the opposite wall was a small window and the wall under it seemed to be the only space free of shelves in the whole room. That was all she noticed before Chandler drew her to him and pressed against her. They kissed long and deeply, taking their time and she wrapped her arms around his waist, bunching up his shirt and t-shirt and molding her body against his. She hardly noticed when he steered her in the direction of the window and gently pressed her against the wall under it. Then his hands went under her sweater and straight up her back to her bra, opening it on the first try. She gasped into their kiss when he cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs across both nipples at the same time, and tore his t-shirt out of his pants to slide her hands up his back and chest. Then he bent his knees and went down on her, pushing her sweater up and kissing her on the belly and navel, while he teased the button of her pants open and let the zipper slide down. She pressed his head against her belly and dug her fingers in his hair as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her pants, trembling in anticipation when he urgently tugged her panties over her buttocks and thighs and pressed his mouth against her mount. For a minute they remained like that, rhythmically pushing and rocking, until she couldn't bear it anymore and urged him up again. As soon as he was standing up again she tore at his pants and boxers and grabbed his penis as it came free. Panting he hooked her legs over his elbows, entwining his fingers under her buttocks to support her as he lifted her up and held her against the wall. After some more shifting and adjustments to get the angle right, she guided and he pushed himself in, slowly and gently at first, and then harder and harder, until it seemed to her that he was trying to hammer her into the wall. He slowed a little again when her mouth found his again and they settled into a more languid rhythm. Their tongues met and pushed against each other and then she opened her eyes again and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall and the door where a bit of light came through the cracks, marveling at herself and the wonderful craziness of it all.

It really was the best ever.

.

.

_A/N: Don't worry, I know very well that they went for it in the closet twice and I don't intend to skip the second time either. It just seemed a good idea to have that one in Chandler's POV, so you'll have to wait for it in the next chapter, I'm afraid._


	5. In and Out the Closet

He hadn't kept count, but he was pretty sure that by now the number of times they had done it had to come close to the three-digit range – or already be well up in it. And every single time had been so amazing. Earthshatteringly, unbelievably, thrillingly awesome. No matter how and where and when they went for it. In her bed. In his bed. On Rachel's bed. On her couch. On his couch. On her carpet. On his carpet. On her kitchen table. On his kitchen counter. On his barcalounger. On Joey's barcalounger. In the laundry room in the cellar. On his desk in his office. Even in Ross's kitchen while he was out borrowing milk from his neighbor. In the evenings. At night. In the mornings. At noon during his lunchbreak. In the afternoons. Lying down or sitting up, missionary style, doggie style, rocking chair style, with her on top, wraparound, spooning, sideways, 69 … or standing up, like now. In their newest location, the closet of Central Perk's, on a Saturday afternoon. As locations went, he'd had better, but it was hard to beat it for the thrill of going for it while there were actually people nearby, just separated from them by a wall, who had no idea what was going on just a few feet away … He found it impossible just to wrap his mind around it. But then any clear thinking was pretty much out of the question once they got down to it, no matter where or how or when.

As always during their sex sessions they seemed to reach a point where it felt like they could go on forever, suspended in space and time, caught in the rhythm, unable to stop. The point after which he no longer felt his knees protesting, his fingers grinding against each other under her buttocks, his ass cheeks getting cold as his pants and boxers slid down his legs down to his feet. There was just Monica, the pressure of her thighs on his waist, her arms around his shoulders, her mouth on his, her smell, her moaning and screaming, her trembling and quivering, and, of course, the inside of her, the hot, wet, tight, slippery, awesomeness of her, like nothing else on earth, and he wanted to prolong that moment, remain forever like that, joined to her, locked in that very best of all possible activities.

But then it ended, like it always did, always too soon no matter how long they were able to hold out, prolongate and delay. She had already climaxed at least once and was getting ready for another, when his own orgasm could no longer be denied, and he pressed her against the wall, shuddering and groaning into their kiss. She was grinding against him and pushed against him with her hips, and when he lifted her up a little more and changed the angle just the tiniest bit, she suddenly drew in her breath sharply, her heels drumming against his back. Then she slumped in his arms, slowly exhaling and shuddering, and he bent his knees a little to set her down and withdraw from her. As soon as she was standing on her own feet again he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, stroking her hair and back. Still panting they kissed once more, then he bent down to pull up his pants and help her find her shoes. She was already zipping up her slacks by the time he had sorted out his boxers from his pants and zipped and buttoned up again, never noticing that his shirt was still pushed back over one shoulder. He went to the door and removed the box, then tried to check through the keyhole if the coast was clear, cautiously opening the door at last and slipping out. Very casually – much too casually in fact – he strode back to the couch where their coffees were still on the table as they had left them, and sat on the easy chair, straightening his shirt at last. Keep it cool, man, like nothing's happened, this is all totally normal, all in a day's work. Here's a postcard, wow, really nice, yeah, here I am, looking at a postcard on a perfectly normal afternoon, right after doing it with my girlfriend against the wall like there was no tomorrow … He was aware of how contrived it had to look, but couldn't seem to help it, and nobody was paying them any attention anyway. So far their luck seemed to hold. And here was Monica emerging from the closet, just as overtly casual as he had been, sauntering to the couch with a definite spring in her step. She sat down without looking at him and bent forward to pick up her coffee cup. And suddenly he wondered if she had fastened her bra again or if she had left it open and loose, just hanging loosely over her breasts …

"Never done that before" she remarked studiously nonchalant.

"Nope" he agreed and then stole a look. Hmmm, he couldn't quite tell with that sweater, but it was possible. All of a sudden it became imperative to find out for sure. And not only that.

She turned her head and their gazes met and held. And he saw in her eyes that she wasn't quite done yet either, had in fact only just got going … It made him jump up as if something had stung him and hurry back to the closet, nothing casual about it anymore, and she followed him just as quickly, closing the door behind them and then grabbing him and pulling him close almost violently. He kissed her hard and pushed his hands urgently under her sweater. Yes! He had been right, her bra was still loose. The feel of her breasts in his hands, the hard nipples rubbing against his palms, made his head swim. She moaned and pressed against him, then suddenly twisted and turned around, bracing herself against the wall under the window and pushing her buttocks against him. For a second he didn't understand, then he got it that this way she wouldn't have to get out of her pants again, and moreover there would be no strain on his knees and wrists like before. He tore his zipper down and pushed his pants and boxers off his hips again, then pressed against her and kissed her on the neck and collarbone, helping her tug down her slacks and panties and pushing his swiftly hardening penis urgently between her legs. She moaned when he became fully erect against her and frantically started to rub herself on him. He stroked her belly and hips and then slid his hands up again to cup her breasts and knead them, rubbing her nipples while he pushed into her slowly, and she pressed her face on her arm to stop herself from screaming. He kept his face pressed against her neck, sucking at it just over the collarbone and breathing her in, the smell of her sweat and the lingering traces of her scent and shampoo. After their initial urgency they slowed a little, then picked up speed again as their arousal grew again, shifting and adjusting their positions and straining against each other harder and harder. Her breath hitched and caught and then she started to gasp and hyperventilate as her orgasm built up. For a moment he thought she was actually choking, but then she breathed free again, exhaling in one long go and almost slumping in his arms. He held himself back a while longer, until she had recovered somewhat again and assisted him with his own release. Then he let her go, bracing himself against the wall and panting heavily until he felt he could stand on his own again. And pick up his pants too without falling down.

She turned around again and kissed him, long and deep, and then pulled up her panties and slacks again swiftly and efficiently, as if she was just getting dressed after a shower or change of clothes. This time she fastened her bra again too. Long before he had untangled his t-shirt from his zipper again she was ready and peeping through the keyhole to check if it was safe to go out again. A part of him wondered if they should really leave again so quickly, what if the urge would overcome them one more time? But then they probably wouldn't ever be able to leave again, stuck forever in the closet and doing it over and over …

Now Monica opened the door cautiously for a crack, peeping out. Then he saw her stiffen and step back hurriedly, drawing the door closed again.

"It's Joey!" she whispered desperately.

Oh no. Oh no. Not that. Now they really were stuck here. Maybe until closing time, and then Gunther would find out about them – aw shucks, it didn't bear thinking.

"What now?" she asked wild-eyed. He shrugged helplessly.

"Let me see …" Yes, she was right, there was Joey sitting on the easy chair with his back to them, drumming his fingers on the armrest and gazing into space. Probably waiting for a date to arrive. Or the portals of heaven to open and a number of hot slutty nurses descending on him, bearing sandwiches … He shut the door again as softly as he could and took a deep breath. Just keep cool. It was just Joey. They could still fool him, if they just did it right, played it natural. He pulled Monica away from the door, deeper into the closet, and brought his mouth close to her ear.

"There's two ways we can do this" he whispered. "One, we both go out – wait! – and just say we heard something in here and were checking. Two, one of us goes out and distracts him. Or three – we wait here until he leaves."

"What if he doesn't leave?"

"Then we're stuck here …" She grimaced at that and shook her head. "Okay, I'm for option two. And I think I should be the one to go out."

"Why you? We should flip for it."

"It's too dark for that. Besides, I think I gave you a hickey."

"What? Where?" That came out almost too loud and he shushed her desperately.

"Shhh! Yeah, I'm sorry, but Joey's bound to notice, he always does."

"Then I'll tell him it's from my secret boyfriend. So?"

"Does he know about him yet?"

"Everybody does!"

"But he'll see that it's … fresh …"

She exhaled exasperatedly. "Alright, alright. Go out and distract him. I'll sneak out when it's safe. Just don't leave me stuck in here."

He kissed her once more for good measure until she pushed him away impatiently, then he took a deep breath and opened the door as quietly as he could. When Joey didn't move he slipped out and closed it carefully again, then strolled to the couch with his hands in his pockets.

"Hi Joe. I thought you were still at the telethon!"

His roommate started out of his reverie and turned his head to look at him. He was still in the tux – the vomitux he couldn't help remembering – but had taken off his bow tie.

"Chandler! Where did you spring from? I've been looking all over for you!"

"Oh, I just was ... back there …" he jerked his head in the general vicinity of the back corner of the cafe and realized too late that there was nothing there – except the closet. Shoot. Joey turned his head and frowned.

"Where? But I looked there! There's nothing – ah, I get it, you were in the closet!"

"The closet?"

Joey grinned wolfishly. "You were, weren't you? There's dust on your pants. So what've you been doing?"

Chandler felt himself go hot under the collar. "Yeah, actually, I was … well – hiding. I needed to hide. There was ... there was ... Janice, it was Janice! I saw her come in and just managed to hide in there."

"From Janice? Had a close escape then, haven't you?"

"I'll say. She still thinks I'm in Yemen."

Joey guffawed. "How long were you in there?"

"I don't know, half an hour? How long have you been here?"

"Not long. Did you see any rats?"

"What? Rats? There are rats in there?"

From the corner of his eye he saw that Monica had opened the closet door again for a crack and thought he heard her gasp. It made him sweat.

"Are you sure about … rats in there?" Joey just grinned offhandedly.

"Well the last time I was in there – and I wasn't exactly hiding, and I also wasn't alone, if you know what I mean …" he winked and Chandler rolled his eyes "I saw a rat. It was huge too."

Chandler swallowed uneasily. "So ... did you tell Gunther?"

"Na. Couldn't do that, not with my date there. It would have freaked her out. It was just a rat anyway."

"Ah. Um. Okay, glad to hear it. So what are you doing here? Got a date?"

Joey grinned blissfully. "Just one? No sir. When I did get on TV – finally after Phoebe called – they all flocked to me and wanted my number. So I told them I'd go out with whoever showed up here first. And now I'm waiting."

Chandler shook his head, thinking furiously. "Wow, good plan. But – aren't you a bit overdressed?"

Joey looked down on himself and frowned. "You think?"

"Dude, it's the vomitux. You want something like that to happen again?"

Joey seemed torn. "Shoot. You're right! But I can't leave now!"

Chandler racked his brain. "Okay – how about we switch shirts?"

Joey put his head to the side. "No offense, but don't you think your shirt will be too tight for me?"

"Well, you could try. Or ask Gunther, maybe he could loan you a shirt."

"Gunther? Na, I'd rather wear yours. Alright, let's switch, but we need to be quick!"

Chandler jumped up and headed for the toilets, only stopping when Joey didn't follow him. When he looked back he saw that his roommate had already taken off his jacket.

"Joe – you've got a t-shirt under that, right?" Joey stopped, looked down his chest and then got up, grinning sheepishly. "Thought so. Come on!"

They went to the gents and Chandler took off his shirt and handed it to Joey, suppressing a pang. It was one of his favorite shirts and he could only hope that nothing would happen to it while Joey was wearing it. It turned out to be a tight fit, but Joey still managed to close all but the topmost button and when he put the tux jacket on again it didn't look too bad. Joey apparently thought so too, judging by his expression. He put on Joey's dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves, wishing he had remembered to bring his jacket. But then Monica and he had been in quite a hurry …

"Thanks man, I really appreciate that." Joey rolled his shoulders and Chandler winced when he saw how strained the button holes were by it. "You're a real buddy!"

They left the toilet and returned to the couch, where Joey dropped into the easy chair again and stretched his arms over his head. Chandler gloomily decided that his shirt was most probably a write-off and took his leave, hoping that Joey wouldn't notice that he hadn't brought a jacket.

.

Monica put her head out of her door soon as he had ascended the stairs.

"Did Joey really say, he'd – whoa! Wow, you really gave him your shirt? Did it fit?"

"Unfortunately yes, it was the only thing I could think of to get him away. He'll wear it to shreds! I heard the first button pop when I left! That was one of my favourite shirts!"

She let him into the apartment and closed the door again, then drew him to her for a cuddle.

"Aw. Poor sweetie. I'll mend it for you. But actually I never liked that shirt anyway."

"What? Why?"

"Well, it just seems to me that every time you wear that shirt you act – goofy."

"Really? Because of that shirt? That's crazy."

"That's what it looks like to me!" she shrugged.

"Mon, I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of being goofy without that shirt. Want me to show you?"

"No! Please! I've had enough of that already, okay?"

"I know. But I just can't help it. Sometimes I just have to act … goofy."

"Seriously? Do you actually have to do that?"

"It depends. Do you have to act like your mom?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Then why are you doing it?"

"I don't act – I never - … oh god, do I?"

"I'm afraid so" he said gravely. "Sometimes you really do. I guess you just can't help it, can you?"

She stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"I'm not like my mother! My mother would never do it in that closet with you!"

"Of course not, why would she want to do it with me in the first place?" That earned him a death glare that actually made him retreat a step and throw up his hands.

"Sorry. Mon, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to annoy you. You're right. I act goofy. And you're not like your mother at all."

She had crossed her arms and now gradually relaxed again.

"I couldn't do it anywhere with you if you were like your mom. Least of all in the closet."

That made her bite her lip and avert her eyes, and he found to his great relief that he could breathe again.

"Alright …" she said after a pause. "Speaking of which, did Joey really see a rat in there?"

"Oh no. He didn't. No way. He was just winding me up. There can't be rats in there, Gunther would never stand for it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! And if it makes you feel better, I'd as soon not do it there again."

"Yes, me too. Just imagine, if it hadn't been just Joey there –"

"Ugh! We'd still be in there. No, that was too close."

She smiled and stepped up to him, running her hands over his – Joey's – shirt.

"But it was great, wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah. Totally. The best ever. I never dreamed it could be that great. It was unbelievable! I mean you. You were unbelievable."

That actually made her blush a little. It always amazed him how much she loved compliments. Here she was, the hottest, most awesome, most amazing woman he had ever known who turned into goo as soon as he expressed his admiration for her. It made her even more adorable in his eyes.

"Really …?" Now she was smiling blissfully and it spurred him on even more.

"Oh absolutely." He spread his arms. "If I never had sex again, the memory would still last me for a lifetime. It was that great." Somehow it was still not enough and so he dropped on his knees before her and wrapped his arms around her hips, pressing his face against her stomach. "And I don't want to stop. Actually I can't stop. Ever again."

She laughed and put her hands to his face, pushing her fingers in his hair. "Oh my! I can't stop either."

"Really?"

She looked down at him tenderly. "Yeah. And I don't want to either."

"Well in that case …" He tightened his grip and got to his feet, bearing her up. She squealed softly and wrapped her legs around his waist laughing as he carried her to her bedroom.

"When is Rachel going to be back?" he asked belatedly as they arrived at the door. She just grinned at him mischievously. "Oh that's right! We don't need her, do we?"

She laughed and they kissed as he kicked the door shut behind them.


	6. Going Undercover

_A/N: By my count its two weeks between TOW Phoebe hates PBS and TOW All the Kips and I didn't really want to skip the weekend between altogether. And then I remembered a scene in _Stakeout_ (which is a really cool movie if you haven't seen it, even if it has aged a little) and the rest just followed, as always. Enjoy and thanks for reading!_

.

.

Another week. They had made it through another week. Without any more gloating or other annoyances, without nagging or admonishing, but with a lot more of really great sex, and all this still without being caught or found out. Now it was Friday again, Friday evening and week 5 had been completed and wrapped up for around 2 hours already. Monica would have liked to be home at exactly 4.15 p.m., their very own magic hour, but the chef of the evening shift had been late – as usual – and there had been nobody else to cover for her until he arrived. Nobody she actually trusted with the job.

She ran up the stairs and had almost gotten past the landing when she realized that Chandler was sitting on the stairs to the next floor, calling out to her softly. He had already changed out of his work-clothes, so he had to have been home for some time, but was in a coat and scarf, as if he'd wanted to go out again.

"Over here – hi, Mon."

"Chandler? What are you doing here?"

"Why, waiting for you of course. What took you so long?" He drew her down to him to kiss her, getting her to squat in front of him between his knees.

"Mmmh – that damn sous-chef was late. Again. I swear, next time I'll –"

"- cook him? Hm, what would a sous-chef taste good in?"

"Ugh, I don't think he'd taste that well. Maybe something that needs to simmer for a long time. Like Boeuf Stroganoff maybe. So what's up?"

"Friday-Night with Pizza and TV" he said wryly. "The others are there too. And Joey's date of the day. I told them I promised a colleague to help him buy a laptop and he'd buy me dinner."

"Excellent" she breathed, leaning in for a kiss. "So what are we waiting for? We have week 5 to celebrate …"

He took her head in his hands and brushed his lips teasingly across hers. "Mmmmh, so we have. Did you have … something special in mind?"

She laughed breathlessly and nibbled at his lips in turn. "Maybe … mmmm … probably …. mmmm … oh yeah … definitely."

That got him up in a hurry and he drew her up with him and steered her urgently towards her door. She opened it and shut it again behind them, then let herself sink against him once more, wrapping her arms around him and savoring their kiss. He responded in kind, closing his eyes and holding her to him, and then suddenly started to squirm.

"What is it?"

"Um … I think I sat on that cold stair too long …"

"Aw. Here, give me your coat."

She put her coat on the hook and then took his into the bedroom – just one careless time when they had left it beside the door for everyone to see had taught them to never leave anything of theirs out in the open again – while he darted into the bathroom. She took off her shoes, still debating with herself whether she should change already or let him undress her when she heard the apartment door open and froze.

"Monica? Are you here?" Oh my god, it was Rachel.

"I'm in my bedroom" she called out, and then sighed and went to the door. "What is it?"

Rachel shut the door behind her and crossed to the kitchen.

"Hi, don't you want to come over? We got pizza, and Joey rented Jurassic Park II. Ross is having a fit!"

She grinned a little forcibly. "Tempting, but I don't feel all that well, and …"

"Oh come on, it'll be fun! But actually I just wanted to pee, the birds are in the guys' bathroom again …" And she walked to the bathroom while Monica's jaw dropped with shock.

"WHAT? NO! NO!" Rachel stopped, still in the kitchen and stared at her frowning. Monica shook off her paralysis and almost flew across the room to stand between her roommate and the bathroom door.

"What's the matter? Why –" and they both froze and gaped as Chandler chose that exact moment to flush. Rachel's eyes widened and she started to grin with mischievous delight.

"OOOOOOHHH, is that Him in there? Your secret boyfriend? It is, isn't it? Well, well, well …!"

Monica hurled herself at the bathroom door and spread her arms wide.

"No! Rachel, no! You can't – you really can't. I won't let you."

"Aw, Monica …"

"No. I'm serious. You can't see him. And you can't tell the others." She heard Chandler rummaging around behind the door and prayed that he would think of something. Anything.

Rachel had crossed her arms and now tapped her foot, a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Monica, this is getting ridiculous. Come on, just a little look. I won't bite him. I won't even talk to him. Just one little look. Come on!"

"NO! I SAID NO!"

"Monica! This is my apartment too, my bathroom, and I really need to – whoa!" She broke off abruptly when they both heard the key being turned. Monica gulped and turned her head slightly as the door opened a crack, not taking her hands from the doorposts. Then the door opened further and she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Alright. Alright. You can look. No, stand back! There you go." And she stepped back a little to give Chandler room as he emerged from the bathroom, closely wrapped in the shower curtain from head to foot, trailing some curtain rings behind him and with a large towel covering his head, making him completely unrecognizable. He had even had the sense to take off his shoes – of all of them Rachel was the one who could recognize them by their shoes – and now he headed determinedly into the direction of the bedroom as fast as he could, only stumbling once when a shower ring got under his foot. Monica grinned at Rachel and made an inviting gesture to the bathroom before she hurried after him to help him maintain his course. Rachel just stood there, hands on her hips, staring furiously. When she snorted and stamped her foot in frustration, Monica couldn't help laughing. They reached the bedroom door and she opened it for Chandler and steered him inside, waving once more at Rachel before closing it behind her and turning the key. Then she leaned back against it, still giggling while Chandler took off the towel and peeled off the shower curtain.

"That was brilliant! You should have seen her face! No, shshsh, don't say anything, she could be listening at the door –" They both listened for a moment and Monica thought she heard the bathroom door close, but wasn't sure. Chandler bunched the shower curtain in his arms, mouthing 'sorry' while he handed it to her. She put it on the floor at the door so it blocked the gap and hung the towel over the doorknob. Then she walked into his open arms and pressed herself to him, holding him to her and kissing him hard. They shuffled over to the bed and fell on it, never letting go. He drew her over him until she lay on him full length, wrapped his arms around her and in addition hooked his legs around hers until she could barely move a finger.

"You think she'll get the others ..?" he asked softly, his lips close to her ear.

"Shshsh, quiet! … I don't know. Maybe? Would they go for it?"

"Na. I don't think so. Joey won't, not if he has a date. Ross definitely won't. Phoebe might though."

"No, not Phoebe. She doesn't care about my boyfriends much."

"Anyhow, looks like I'm stuck –" this time they both froze as they heard the flush and she felt his body tense under hers. After some moments they heard the bathroom door open and then – nothing, as much as they strained their ears listening. Monica suddenly pictured Rachel listening at the door, and clenched her teeth exasperatedly. She really didn't want to believe it, but at the same time just couldn't put it past her. Suddenly she had an idea. She put a hand over Chandler's mouth and tipped her head back, moaning exaggeratedly loud and panting. Chandler gaped at her, frowning, and she grinned at him wickedly.

"Keep quiet and make me scream!" she whispered excitedly and took a deep breath for the next loud moan. Chandler smiled widely and then pressed his mouth against her neck, under her ear, licking and sucking the skin at just the exact most sensitive place. It made her squeal and squirm and he released his hold just enough so she could get on her elbows and knees, but not further. While she continued to wriggle and moan loudly he hurriedly opened the buttons of her blouse and kissed her clavicles and shoulders while he slipped the straps of her bra over her arms and fumbled at the catch on her back. As she got out of the blouse, her bra opened and slipped down over her arms and then she moaned in earnest when he cupped and rubbed her breasts, pressing them together, holding them close to his face, kissing and sucking at the nipples. One of his hands slid down her side to the waistband of her jeans, opening the button and tugging down the zipper. Without even bothering to push down the jeans further he squeezed his hand under the crotch of her panties and slid two fingers inside her. It made her gasp first, and then pant and when he pushed his fingers deeper and curled them, she screamed in earnest. For a moment she could even forget about Rachel listening at the door, then it occurred to her how it would look if Rachel saw her like this, with Chandler going at two of her most important erogenous zones simultaneously while she was helplessly pinned over him, and had to fight the laughter that bubbled up from inside her. Her breath hitched when she tried for a deep moan again and she had to content herself with a series of short breathless screams that nevertheless sounded quite convincing in her ears. Then Chandler pushed down her jeans and panties with his other hand and caressed her buttocks, sliding his hand over her crack and the insides of her thighs, never missing a beat with his other hand nor his mouth at her breasts either and that was when she finally lost it, all thoughts of Rachel entirely swept out of her head.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it any longer without exploding he gently pushed her up and flipped her over until she lay on her back, squirming and still moaning, while he slid off the bed and tugged down her jeans over her legs one by one. Her panties came next and when she tried to get up to help him he slapped her hands away and pushed her back down. She lay back again obediently and closed her eyes, clenching her fists into the bedcovers and whimpering uncontrollably now as he slowly spread her legs apart as far as they would go, only brushing his lips across her vulva at first, his hot breath tickling at her labia. It made her buck and arch her back in anticipation, and when she wanted to grab his head he caught her hands in his and held them away, keeping her legs spread with his lower arms at the same time. Then finally she felt his tongue on her, in her, going in and out, stroking her, licking her, until she tensed and strained, screaming herself hoarse, screaming the house down, as if someone was killing her, killing her slowly one stroke at a time.

When her orgasm finally released her, he let go of her hands and started to take off his clothes, while she still lay helplessly on the bed, moaning and twitching in the aftermath, feeling wrung-out and limp like a wash-cloth. When he finally came to lie on top of her, pushing his hands under her back and shoulders to hold her against him, she barely managed to put her arms around him, let alone respond when he kissed her. Then she felt him tease at her entrance, slipping away and coming back tantalizingly, and finally pushing in, while she drew her nails down his back and almost howled. She spread her legs even wider and clamped her hands on his buttocks, pressing him even closer and deeper inside her while she kept her mouth on his, entwining their tongues until her breath gave out. They both panted now and then kissed again and he had both his arms under her while he pounded into her, harder and harder, making the bed shake and rattle under them.

All the time he had indeed kept silent except for some pretty hard breathing that turned into loud panting as his orgasm built up, until he couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a loud groan, his whole body tensing, before he collapsed on her, covered in sweat. She held him against her, bearing his full weight, wrapping her legs around his and squeezing the cheeks of his buttocks in her hands, straining against him until finally her own climax shot through her. And still she wouldn't let him go, but kept him over and inside her until her breath had stilled and the sweat on the exposed areas of their skin began to dry.

When at last he stirred, pushing himself up on his elbows, she held on to him and curled into him, when he rolled over on his side, pushing her face against his chest, tasting him, breathing him in, his chesthair tickling her, enjoying the way his arm encircled her shoulders and his breath felt on her temples as he kissed the top of her head.

"Mon …?"

"Mmmmmh."

"You think … you really think, they're out there?"

"Mmmh. Let them. I don't care."

"Yeah. Me neither." That made her giggle.

"I really hope they heard me. I hope their ears exploded. That was so good. You really killed me this time." She laughed breathlessly when his arms tightened around her almost convulsively at that.

"YES!"

"Chaaaanndleeer …!" He relaxed again, chuckling softly.

"Okay, okay. No dancing. But seriously, Mon, at the risk of repeating myself, it's only you. I never could do that with anyone else."

She smiled, started to speak and then hesitated.

"What?"

"Well – if I tell you, you'll gloat again."

"Ah. Yeah, I guess I might. But I promise only to do it when you're not around. That okay?"

She sighed. "I guess."

"Soo …?"

"Well … I never thought anybody could do me like that. Nobody ever has until now."

"Wow. Not even – Richard?"

"Why are you so hung up upon Richard? I had other boyfriends too!"

"Well, he seemed to be the best of them … wasn't he?"

She sighed and snuggled against him again, closing her eyes. "Maybe. But you can't really compare yourself with him. You're totally different."

"But was he –"

"Chandler! Okay, no, he wasn't really. He was – different."

"Different … how?" She glared at him, and then sighed again.

"He wasn't really good in bed – no, hear me out! At first, I mean. He wasn't used to it. He had been with only one woman before, and it showed a little. But he learned fast. In the end he was – really good."

"Wow, you must have spoiled him for every woman that came after you." She frowned at that and he hurriedly tried to correct himself. "I mean if he ever had another woman. After you."

"Oh, I guess he had. It's been a long time. I really don't care. And you shouldn't either. Why are you so competitive anyway?"

"You of all people ask me that?"

She laughed and lay back again. "Touche. I guess I can understand it, but … it's really pointless. Could we change the subject?"

"Mmmh. If we have to …. Okay, should I put the curtain on again when I leave?"

"Do you have to leave now?"

"Well, no … not right now. I don't think they'll miss me over there. And it would look weird if you came over now."

"Then you'd better stay here. You can sneak out in the morning when Rachel's asleep."

"But what if she told the others about your secret boyfriend and your brother's guarding the door?"

"Ross? Why should he … well, then you'll have to leave by the fire escape."

"Ugh. Let's hope it won't come to that. Mmmmh … wow, now we have almost the whole night together. When was the last time we had that?"

"I know. It's really nice. I wish we could have the morning too … Want to get under the covers?"

"Yeah … and, um, I know you hate it but could we have something to eat too?"

"I don't hate eating – oh, you mean in bed. Yeah, but I'm hungry too."

"We could always use the curtain …"

"No, it's alright. Okay, should we order something?"

He grinned. "How about chicken?"

She giggled. "Or the Joey Special?"

"Naw, they'll only deliver it to the wrong apartment. But pizza sounds good."

"Pizza it is." She climbed out of the bed and put on her bathrobe, then started to collect the clothes that had ended up on the floor and put them on the chair. Chandler sighed and settled under the covers.

"But leave the curtain here" he said when she went to the door. "You know … just in case I have to go undercover again."


	7. Escape Plan

Monica had said 3 a.m., not before, and now it was 2.55 and Chandler was so antsy he could hardly stand still, let alone finish his coffee. He shouldn't have set his alarm as early as 2.45 in the first place, but then he had hardly been able to sleep anyway. And now he found that waiting for her in the kitchen straining his ears for her knock was driving him just as crazy as lying in his bed staring at the alarm clock, afraid to shut his eyes for fear of falling asleep again. Getting everything ready – the box of condoms, the box of tissues and the towel she still insisted on having handy, even though her period was as good as finished – hadn't taken more than half a minute either, and now there just wasn't anything else to do but wait. Wait and try not to wake Joey with his impatience.

Waiting was always the hardest part of their affair, and today was even worse. The last time they had been able to steal a few minutes alone had been Thursday night and that had been much too hurried and urgent to be really satisfying. After that everything seemed dead set against them to stop them from celebrating another completed week since London – week 6 in fact. Monica had had to work a double shift which meant they hadn't been able to see each other in the morning at breakfast, and he had an unbelievable amount of end-of-the-months report piles to deal with which kept him in the office until late. When he finally got home, Joey had insisted on a foosball tournament followed by pizza and endless TV and since he just hadn't been able to think of a convincing excuse, it had been easier just to go along. Sneaking around Joey was somehow getting harder and harder to do anyway. Right now he was getting more of a problem than Rachel who finally seemed to have accepted Monica's weird refusal to share the identity of her secret boyfriend. Once he was safely in Monica's bedroom, all he had to do was to ensure that Rachel couldn't recognize his voice though the wall between their bedrooms. And remember to cover himself up before he left too. But Joey was another problem altogether. He hadn't said anything so far, but it seemed to Chandler that somehow Joey sensed that something was wrong, by the way he looked at him sometimes with a frown, as if something struck him as odd that he couldn't put his finger on. He kept telling himself that it was probably just his imagination, but it was making him more and more uncomfortable. And last night, just a few hours ago actually, when they had finally gone to bed around midnight he had heard his roommate toss and turn – and snore too - for quite a bit, and he couldn't be sure if he was really fast asleep by now. But that couldn't be helped. If only they could have a night to themselves, with no delays, no waiting, no interruptions, just one whole night they could spend together in peace. A night away – that was something to think about right there.

Then it was finally 3 a.m., Saturday already for 3 hours, but still no Monica. Maybe his clock was fast? Maybe hers was slow? Maybe Rachel was still awake, or had just woken and gone to the bathroom? Maybe … Chandler almost forcibly stopped himself from pacing around the kitchen and risking to wake up Joey with it and took a deep breath instead. And another. Then he closed his eyes and counted to ten, then to twenty, then to thirty … Then he looked at the clock again. 3.01, and just as he looked, it clicked to 3.02. He put his mug on the counter and then, oh thank all the angels in heaven, there was her knock. 3.02, he would have to adjust the clock by two minutes then. But first things first, and he opened the door to let her in and chuckled with delight, when he saw her standing on the doorstep in her black bathrobe with a piece of the black negligee showing that he was crazy about. She giggled happily in return and they kissed eagerly, then he put an arm around her to steer her to his bedroom without any more delays. His body was already reacting to her, the feel of her lips, her breath on his face, her body under that bathrobe – AND the negligee. It made his heart beat faster and his breath stop short, let alone caused that weird feeling in his stomach which he couldn't get used to even after all this time, and his penis stirring and thickening in anticipation which he was actually very used to, but which was still thrilling. In his mind he was already busily mapping his moves after they had arrived in his room, how he would take off her bathrobe, but not the negligee, not yet, and then pick her up and climb on the bed with her, hold her tight, kiss her senseless …

He was so preoccupied with this that he didn't quite register Joey getting up and walk to his door. When he opened it, there was no time left for thinking. He pushed Monica away from him by pure instinct and gripped the edge of the kitchen counter with both hands to steady himself, gritting his teeth. Oh god, not this, not now … Then Joey switched on the light and blinked at them sleepily, totally befuddled.

"Monica? What time is it?"

"Uh, 9." He had answered without thinking and wanted to kick himself as soon as it was out. Fortunately he remembered just in time to push the clock out of sight.

"But it's dark out …!" What to say, what to say … eclipse? Blackout? The world ending? Fortunately Monica came to his rescue. She even remembered to hide that corner of the negligee, though it was fortunate that the perceptive part of Joey was still asleep, or he would have noticed it first thing.

"Well that's because you always sleep to noon, silly! This is what 9 looks like."

It sounded crazy to him, but Joey seemed to buy it.

"I guess I'll get washed up then." He actually grinned at them. "Watch that sunrise!"

And with that he marched into the bathroom, his eyes still at half-mast. When the door closed behind him, Chandler tentatively started to breathe again. Monica put her hands to her head, freaking out now that the danger was passed.

"I'm **really** getting tired of sneaking around!"

"I know, me too." It was fun, but too much was too much – and suddenly something clicked.

"Hey! What if we went away for a whole weekend?" He grinned excitedly, almost dancing in place. "We'd have no interruptions and we could be naked the entire time!" And do it, again and again, not just all night, but all weekend ..."

"All weekend? That's a whole lotta naked!" There was that sparkle in her eyes that he loved so much. Especially when he caused it. It put his brain into overdrive at once.

"Yeah, I can say that I have a conference and you can say you have a – a chef thing."

"Oohh, I've always wanted to go to this culinary fair that they have in Jersey!" Monica was almost skipping with joy. Time to put her back on track.

"Okay, but you know you're not though ..!" Her face fell a little, but she shrugged gamely. Well, he would make sure to make her forget all about the culinary fair right now. New Jersey though, there was an idea - but first things first.

"Let's go." And he tried to steer her towards his room again, but Monica hesitated.

"Wait! What about Joey?"

Right. Shouldn't be a problem anymore, but better safe than sorry … He went to the bathroom door and opened it cautiously. And there was Joey, on the toilet seat with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, fast asleep again. Just as he had thought. No problem there.

He turned back to Monica, shrugging, and she just nodded and then hurried to his bedroom, actually beating him to it. He followed her as quickly as possible, not even bothering to close the bathroom door again, and then they were in his room, in front of the bed, unable to wait any longer, to endure even the slightest further delay. As soon as he had shut the door they reached for each other in the dark, pulling each other close and kissing hungrily, and then they were already lying on the bed, pressing close, still in their bathrobes and not caring, fumbling and clawing at each other urgently. He pulled her on top of him and pushed her panties over her buttocks and down her thighs and she kicked them away and then straddled him, clawing at his boxers. He rolled around again and on top of her, pushing down his boxers with one hand just as far as necessary and then entered her swiftly, pushing into her blindly and without thought, never taking his mouth from hers the whole time. She screamed and moaned into their kiss, drumming her heels against his legs and buttocks and clenching her fists in the fabric of his robe. All the layers of clothes between them somehow only heightened their urgency and greed for each other. His thrusts became faster and harder until he felt as if it was getting out of control, as if he was a machine that could no longer be stopped, without brake or emergency button. Then her body arched under him, lifting him up with it, and she seemed to tighten all around him, locking him inside her, squeezing him until he couldn't move anymore, couldn't even breathe for a long, long moment until she collapsed again whimpering and moaning and he sank down over her, hardly noticing his own orgasm rolling through him. When he tried to push himself up, he almost fell down on her again, his arms too weak to support him all of a sudden. He rolled away from her and stretched out, panting and sweaty, with hardly any strength left to find and grasp her hand and entwine his fingers with hers. He heard her breathing beside him, gasping and almost wheezing at first, then gradually stilling and evening out. Finally she turned to him and hooked a leg over his waist, sliding a hand under his robe and t-shirt. He heaved himself around on his side too and they lay close for a while, just huddling and kissing lazily, too exhausted to even try to get out of their clothes. Only the muffled thump and startled swearing from the bathroom when Joey finally fell from the toilet, jolted them out of their contented reverie and made them cling to each other in panic, holding their breath and listening. Then they heard Joey shuffling out of the bathroom back to his room, muttering and yawning, and relaxed again as the door was shut and the bedsprings squeaked as he fell into his bed.

.

Much later that morning when Joey had finally gotten up and lurched into the shower, totally oblivious again of their nightly encounter, he set about booking their hotel room in Atlantic City. When it turned out that the hotel they had stayed at on their weekend trip with Phoebe after the birth of the triplets was full, he suddenly remembered a conversation with a work colleague about the Resorts Casino Hotel. It was awfully pricy, but actually offered rooms with ocean view and a lot of other extras that he thought would give Monica quite a thrill and make the weekend even more special. And if they went by bus and didn't go out for dinner, the total costs of this weekend trip would still be affordable.

Joey caught the tail end of his confirmation when he came out of the shower in a cloud of steam, but accepted grudgingly his explanation that he needed to fill in for a work colleague who had gotten sick at a conference in New Jersey. As did Phoebe who was still eating breakfast at the kitchen table when they went over to no. 20, in a rather striking long red dress. Over breakfast, Joey wolfing down everything in sight as if he'd had nothing to eat for two days, she told them how Monica had beaten Rachel three times at rock-paper-scissors to get her to go for bagels from Zabar's on her own for once.

Then Monica entered, cheerful and radiant, in a tight dark blue sweater that complimented her eyes - and some other things too - and a long tight bluegrey skirt that immediately had him thinking about the best way to remove it from her or at least get his hands under it and slide them up -

"Hey, guess what I'm doing this weekend! I'm going to this culinary fair in New Jersey."

He froze, his lewd thoughts cut off abruptly. Oh no, he'd done it again, and such a rookie mistake too. No way they would swallow that much of a coincidence …

"Oh weird, Chandler just told us he's got a conference there!" Yup, they were done for.

"Oh now that-that-that's funny, it seems like Chandler's conference could've been in Connecticut or Vermont!" Monica sounded amused, but there was an edge in her voice that made him start to sweat.

"I'm not in charge of where the conference is held. Do you want people to think it's a fake conference? It's a real conference." It sounded lame even to him, but to his relief nobody seemed to want to argue the point. And then Ross came in, in a nervous frenzy as usual and asking for Rachel, swigging his Pepto Bismol that he had begun to take around with him everywhere lately. Chandler wondered once more how many bottles he had gone through in the last weeks, and if he was close to bursting from constipation yet. It turned out that after two weeks of negotiating, hesitating, procrastinating and nerve-wrecking it looked like Emily would come to New York after all - meaning that things were finally coming to a head. And now he had to break it to Rachel somehow.

Phoebe got up to stand close to him and they all followed suit, looking at Ross who was staring back defiantly.

"Wait a minute! So when Emily comes you're just, you're not gonna see Rachel anymore?"

"Well look, I'm just trying to focus on the "I get to see my wife," part, all right?"

Yeah, like such tunnel vision would resolve everything.

"Wow, so you guys are, you're never gonna be in the same room together? How is that even gonna work?" Leave it to Monica to point out the obvious pitfall.

"I have no idea. I mean - but I assure you I will figure it out."

They all gave the likelihood of Ross figuring out that quandary some thought. This time it was Joey who voiced the obvious.

"Doesn't seem like it's going to work …"

And Rachel had to enter at that exact moment, with the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife, and they had to think up a plausible reason to leave the two of them alone together. He thought the idea with the mattress flipping was pretty neat until he realized that the four of them would be stuck in Monica's room until the latest staging of the never-ending drama was finished. Again. And what if once more they wouldn't get out until next morning, just like that horrible time two years ago when Ross and Rachel fought all through the night, forcing them to stick it out in Monica's room? He shuddered at the memory of how they had been trapped there for more than 12 hours without food (except the organic wax strips) and no possibility to relieve themselves. Joey hadn't been the only one who needed to pee urgently, he himself had been so desperate that they ended up sharing the bowl once they were back in their apartment.

No, he could not let that happen again, so the first thing he did was listen at the door to make sure they could escape before things really got ugly. But it was hard with Monica standing so close behind him, and then he got distracted again when Joey started rummaging under the bed, treating them all to the impressive sight of his backside.

"Hey, Joey's ass! What are you doing?" That was Monica, not too pleased with the sight of Joey climbing all over her bed. Chandler was amused at first, until it occurred to him that Joey might have found something of his under there and almost started to panic again.

Finally his roommate emerged again, with a big box that he set on the bed.

"Well, remember when they got in that big fight and broke up and we were all stuck in her with no food or anything? Well, when Ross said Rachel at the wedding, I figured it was gonna happen again, so I hid this in here."

To his surprise Monica seemed quite intrigued and not in the least disturbed that Joey had invaded her privacy so blatantly.

"Ooh, candy bars, crossword puzzles …" And how could she have missed the box under her bed all this time? Had she actually been this much distracted by him? The thought made him ridiculously happy again, and not even Phoebe's snarky remark could put a dent in that. He ventured closer to examine the contents of the box himself.

"What else have you got in here? Magazines, Doritos … Condoms?"

"You don't know how long we're gonna be in here! **We** may have to repopulate the earth!"

"And condoms are the way to do that?!"

But actually he was impressed. Monica had even found a walkie talkie. Granted, there was only one, and he was quite sure that Joey had accidently dropped the other into a sewer, but it was still good thinking. It also reminded him to make sure he'd packed condoms. Lots and lots of condoms. In case they did get out of there again in time to catch the noon bus and start on their naked weekend …

His thoughts were cut off again by Rachel's screaming which had Monica and Phoebe hurry out as one like two mother hens to comfort a stray chicken. Still, it got them out of that room, and a lot sooner than he had expected.

"Sweetie, we heard you crying, please don't cry …"

"It's LE POO!" Rachel wailed.

Phoebe put an arm around her. "I know it's le poo right now, but it'll get better."

Oh yeah. A lot better. Now they could finally escape. Hit the road. Vanish into the blue where no one would find them. Get away, get lost, arrive at the hotel and start on their weekend of doing it, doing it, doing it all night long. He could feel the joy bubbling over in him, filling him to the brim, until he had to force himself to keep a serious face and not start dancing instead. Soon, so soon. He could hardly wait. It was going to be so good. And once they managed to get away from their troublesome friends and be alone together in peace, nothing could possibly go wrong anymore.

Absolutely nothing. He was sure of it.


	8. Lost Weekend

_A/N Sorry, guys, this was really no fun at all to write :-( I'm afraid this chapter rather sucks, but there was simply no way around it. I hope you like it nevertheless, or at least don't blame me too much for making it so bleak. If I get a better idea, I may rewrite it again, but for now I'd rather move on :-) The next chapter will be more fun again – Chandler's chapters always are – that's a promise._

…

Monica huddled into the corner of her seat, wedged in between the window and her suitcase that she had put in front of the second seat beside her. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her coat and drew it around her, burying her face in it and closing her eyes, trying to shut out the cold draft from the aisle, the stale smell from the upholstery, the whining drone of the bus motor, the fact that it would take at least 2 more hours to arrive back in New York - but most of all her nagging and embittered thoughts.

The bus was almost empty, with only about half a dozen other passengers who had distributed themselves all through the carriage, leaving her with plenty of free seats all around her corner. It was too late for the families and shoppers returning from their Halloween outings and too early for the party folks who couldn't or wouldn't spend the night, but still a little more time and probably a lot more money. A lot of hard earned god money spent on cheap thrills, bad food and sloppy hotel rooms, blinded by the bright lights, the imposing facades, the hustle, the screaming advertising, the hollow promises of a thrilling and exciting time.

She hadn't wanted that at all, had in fact felt her first misgivings about their weekend escape as soon as she realized they were heading for Atlantic City and the Resorts Casino Hotel of all places instead of a nice quiet resort somewhere closer to New York, somewhere off the beaten track and hidden away, some simple place where they could spend a night and a day together, alone and undisturbed. Maybe she should at least have told Chandler that upfront or handled the planning and booking herself instead of leaving it all to him, but the task of reorganizing her weekend shifts at work had made her glad she could leave the rest to him, trusting in his good sense. That just showed what she had suspected before – his good sense was always the first thing to go out the window once he was this excited, this thrilled, in fact this high about something. When their cab drew up at the imposing front of the Resorts Hotel he had reminded her of a five-year-old on his first trip to Disneyland. It had been touching really to see that he had done it for her as much as for him. He had expected her to be so thrilled and over the top with it all that she had tried to play along at first and let herself be infected by his enthusiasm. Tried her best to ignore the arrogant clerk at the reception who looked down her nose at their scruffy baggage and Chandler's baggy sweater (if he had to go and book a room at such a pricey hotel, why in the world couldn't he have dressed up a little more?), the crowded and noisy entrance hall, the long face of the bellman, who had probably sized them up for tips in advance and found them lacking, the interminable queue in front of the elevators – apparently an ocean view room still did not entitle them to the use of the special VIP elevator which seemed to have been reserved for the use of The Man himself. But at least they caught a glimpse of him, yes, Donald Trump in person, and she was comforted by the fact that even if he had an elevator for himself, he still had to wait for it just like they did for theirs. Chandler of course had been ecstatic about it, and when they finally arrived in their room she had loved how he had jumped on the bed right away – with his shoes still on, but never mind - kissing her and shouting with glee.

"This is so great. No one's gonna come in and bother us. And we're gonna do it. I'm gonna do it with Monica!"

Who could resist that? She had resolved right then and there not to spoil that mood if she could help it, to shut out everything, every worry and misgiving behind the door of that hotel room and just enjoy herself with him. Enjoy doing it with him over and over. They wouldn't need to leave that room for anything, could stay in it all night, until late next morning. And she could partake of Chandler's joy, relax and concentrate on him and try to make the night as perfect and memorable as she could. As they could.

But then she had found the glass with the lipstick on it. She had just gone to the bathroom to smooth out some errant lashes that had stuck together somehow with her eyelash curler when she saw the glass and felt her spirits sink again. One little thing she could ignore. But this too? And there was more to find, the more she looked, so many little things wrong that added up to simply too much for her to ignore. The smelly carpet. The used soap in the shower cabinet. The fact that the 'ocean view' could only be enjoyed with a lot of head craning.

Chandler had just begun to be captivated by that dumb high speed car chase on TV, but had still been willing to go along, tearing out of that room so fast she almost couldn't keep up. But when after a long and weary wait in the queue, with Chandler fidgeting and grumbling, and a nervewrecking discussion with the same stuck-up bitch of a receptionist they were finally shown into another room and he immediately got glued to the TV again, along with that snotty bellman, she fervently wished that high-rodding idiot would blow a tire or hit a tree. Here she was, with those cheating bastards of the hotel trying to swindle them, play them for suckers with their crappy over-priced hotel rooms and sloppy service and she couldn't even get Chandler to care, although he had paid for the room in advance. She had actually seen him wince when that bitch at the reception presented him with the credit card receipt without so much as batting an eyelash. He had stuffed it in his pocket without letting her see it, but she knew it had been too much, even for a hotel this classy. And it really infuriated her how he still seemed determined to ignore the glaringly obvious truth, hardly listening to her in fact, and rushing back to his damn car chase before she was finished.

Guys. Was there ever any understanding of them? And on top of it all he even buddied up with that snarky bellman. That had actually hurt the most, that he had been so caught up, so insensitive to her issues, that he had failed to realize how edgy and close to exploding she was getting. In fact that moment had really been the point of no return, so that even when they had finally gotten an acceptable room, there was no way the weekend could be salvaged any more. Not with Chandler still bitching about his lost TV show and her 'room-switching fun', and then as the last straw, calling her 'Mom' to her face.

That was when she had snapped. And stormed out, unable to bear it anymore, the exasperation, the vexation, the hassle, preferring a fast getaway before her anger would really get the better of her and let her do some serious damage they would not be able to undo later. She knew it was no use fighting with Chandler when he was in this mood, he would only get more defiant and balky, and keep refusing his good sense a chance to kick in.

Now that she had cooled off a little she realized that Chandler had been under a lot of stress in the past days too, that he had been looking forward to that weekend even more than she had, and if she had been a little more patient, he would have dialed down eventually, come down from his high and seen a little sense. But she really couldn't stand that awful hotel anymore, and she was so tired of giving in, standing back, putting up with everything just for peace sake, for the sake of the others when she herself could not stand it. Wasn't it enough that she had to endure all that and more growing up with Ross, who always had to come first, always claimed all the consideration and pampering to his needs, leaving her alone with her bitterness and rage against the unfairness of it all? It wasn't as if Chandler was not aware of her ways, her obsessions. He had known her for more than seven years, there was no way he couldn't be aware of what he had let himself in for with her. And in the past six weeks she had always felt that he was well aware of all of her traits, her obsessions and quirks and accepted them as an essential part of who she was. Even was okay with it in fact.

So maybe this was a long overdue test, a trial by fire. Which had shown them just where their relationship was still wobbly, and needed more work. Unless he couldn't take it anymore, and in this case, since it was still secret, they could still quit at this point without serious damage, and without their friends finding out about it. It was all still between the two of them and them alone. Of course she hoped it would not come to this – she simply couldn't imagine life without him anymore and still thought they had a pretty good chance – but if it was necessary, if he left her no choice, then they still could end it, with no one the wiser, without tearing the group apart with it, with no public display of their emotions. With nothing more than just a lost weekend to write off, plus six weeks' worth of a good time, fun, loving, affection and unbelievable sex.

She didn't like to admit it, but suspected that she would miss the sex the most. She kept telling herself that it really couldn't – and shouldn't – be the basis of their relationship, that as amazing as it was it still shouldn't serve as a distraction or compensation of their relationship's failures and deficiencies in other areas. But it couldn't be denied, after all that time, all those six weeks, that their need for each other was still as overwhelming and urgent as in the beginning, as if they were hopelessly addicted to each other. The secrecy and restricted time together could be a part of it, but she was sure there was more to it than that. This actually made it all the more crucial for her to remain true to herself and not give in, hide herself, pretend to be something she wasn't, deny herself. He had become too important for her for that. If he couldn't accept her as she was, couldn't live with it, then it would be better to end it now and not let herself in for a life of delusion and lies and tears. It would be doomed from the start, and even the sex would not make up for it.

She shifted in her seat, gritting her teeth when her foot that had fallen asleep started to prickle unbearably. Why hadn't she rented a car for the return journey? She could have been almost home by now with a car. But she had been too upset for it, and moreover had balked at the cost. That reminded her, she would have to make sure to pay Chandler her share of the hotel room. Even if that crappy overpriced hotel had been his idea, and he now had perforce to enjoy all the benefits on his own. What would he be doing now? When she had rushed out of the hotel room she had half expected him to come after her and apologize or at least appeal to her good sense. But he hadn't and that had hurt even more. So maybe now he was still sulking, sitting on that bed and staring at the TV, maybe hurt and angry, or maybe hurt and just sad. What a dreadful waste.

Or maybe making a night of it with that bellman, drinking beer and eating pizza … She couldn't quite put it past him, but deep down knew that it was only her imagination. Joey would do something like that, but not Chandler. He would probably remain in the hotel all night, have a drink or two to get over his anger, and then try to go to sleep without her and fail. Just like she would probably.

But at least she did not have to spend the night in that awful hotel.

. . .

When she finally stepped off the bus and took the subway home it seemed already much later than it really was. In fact it was still quite early. They had arrived at the hotel in the afternoon around 4 and now it was not quite 9, but she was so tired from her frustration and worry that all she wanted was to take a nice hot bath and then go to sleep. If she managed to go to sleep without Chandler. If nothing else, maybe that fight had been worth it, just to show her if she could stand to be without him for one night.

She saw from the street already that the light in her apartment was on, and when she came in, Rachel was there, watching TV, and in just as foul a mood as her. It turned out that Ross' decision to break up all contact with her so he could make up with Emily had upset her so much she had stormed out, even though they had been in her apartment. She had spent some time with Phoebe afterwards to calm down, but was still seething. So much in fact it never even occurred to her to ask after Monica's day and why she was home so early. For which Monica was actually grateful, even if it rankled a little.

The bath she had longed for so much didn't help much either. She couldn't seem to get the bath salt mixture right, and then it was first too hot and then too cold. There wasn't a big towel left – it was high time for laundry again, something which she had kept pushing off in favor of time with Chandler – and she had to make do with a small one, which she hated. And then, in bed, she couldn't go to sleep.

Naturally.

At some point she considered calling him, almost took up her phone to call information for the number. But then she remembered that she did not know the number of the last room they had been in before she had left, and that and the thought of the bitchy receptionist and snotty bellman got her so mad once more, she abandoned the idea again. No, it would be much better if they both spent a little time apart, if only to cool off.

If only that damn Saturday was over already. What was it with Saturdays lately anyway? They seemed to be jinxed somehow. If anything bad happened to her and Chandler, if they came to a bump in their relationship, it always seemed to happen on a Saturday. Like on their first Saturday together in London, when they kept searching for a place to have sex one more time and were interrupted again and again. Or the Saturday after that when the triplets were born and they'd had that stupid misunderstanding. The Saturday they spent in Atlantic City with the whole gang to cheer up Phoebe hadn't worked out great for them either, there was always one or the other from the gang around and they just couldn't get some time alone. She had lost nearly 50 dollars at roulette that day too. And then there was the Saturday two weeks ago when Chandler had danced on the table. True, they had made up, and most spectacularly so, but had almost been caught by Joey afterwards, so it still counted. Maybe they needed to be more careful with that day.

That is, if there would be another Saturday for them together.

But there had to be. She only had to be patient. He would get over it, once his common sense kicked in again. He was bound to, they were both adults after all, capable of dealing with a problem and then moving on. She would go to him in the morning as soon as he returned and they would have this thing out, clear the air again. Afterwards they would make up again, and turn this lost weekend into a valuable experience for both of them.

She only had to get through the night without him. Somehow.


	9. Adult relationship

"I don't like fast getaways! I like car chases!"

But no one gave a toss about what he liked or not. The car chase was over, that guy on the run was dead, and so was his affair with Monica. Over and dead. Because of one moment's (okay, a bit longer than a moment) inattention, blindness, and slip of the tongue. No way he would ever be able to make up for that again. Not when Monica was this pissed. Six weeks, six unbelievable weeks just thrown away, lost, flushed down the toilet because a hyped up car chase on TV had been more important than the feelings of the best girlfriend he'd ever had. Great job, Bing. Might as well shop for some ratty old slippers and maybe a snake or a parrot on your way home and change your name to Mr. Heckles Junior.

At first he had been too mad to go after her and try to make up, then it was too late for that. For some time he contented himself with kicking around some things around the room, his duffel bag mostly, and some pillows, ranting and swearing, then he slumped on the bed, staring unseeingly at the TV and brooding. Not even the synopsis of the car chase in the newsflash after the Emergency Room episode could shake him out of his gloom.

How could he have let it happen? How could he not have noticed the warning signs? How could he have been so dumb? And why did that have to happen just when he had been so happy and on top of the world? Why? Oh yes, because that was always when he was most likely to screw up.

When the constant recriminations in his mind wouldn't let off, Chandler got up from the bed to check the minibar. There was nothing in there that he felt would be adequate to deal with his blues and he debated with himself if it would be worth it to order a six-pack of beer and/or vodka from roomservice – and risk facing the same bellman again who had dragged their luggage to all the different rooms and endure his pitying and/or gloating grin – or get himself down to the bar and drink his fill there. And have some indifferent bartender feign false interest in his loser story while he relieved him of the rest of his money. Or get out and find some liquor store.

But maybe she would call while he was away. She wouldn't be home for hours, but maybe she would try to call from some phone booth at a rest stop or a borrowed cell phone. Oh yeah, cell phone, a pity they still hadn't got them. He had meant to get some for them, but somehow had kept pushing it off. And now it was too late. He could call her at home later. But Rachel would be there – he couldn't risk that, not even now when it was all over. It was better if nobody ever got to know about them.

So he stayed in his room, that ridiculously overpriced room which he couldn't stand any more even though Monica had passed it, watching TV and drinking. The alcohol from the minibar wasn't nearly enough to get him drunk, only gave him an unpleasant buzz that stopped him from going to sleep too. It really seemed as if he couldn't get anything right now.

Sometime around midnight he finally fell asleep, still in his clothes and with the TV still on. He had kept flipping through the channels for hours, trying to get interested in movies, documentaries, news, TV series, even porn, but everything seemed dull and boring. Especially the porn. After six weeks of incredible mindblowing sex with Monica any kind of porn just seemed almost ridiculously tedious.

When he woke in the morning with a pounding headache and an incredibly bad taste in his mouth, and realized that Monica hadn't tried to call, his mood slowly changed to anger.

Just what had got into her all of a sudden that made her so fussy and caused her to drag him, the bellman and their luggage to ten different rooms, finding faults in each and every one? Was he really the only one to blame that this weekend had busted? All he had wanted was to relax, get into the mood, have fun, and he had thought that she wanted that too. Why did she have to go out of her way to spoil that? Why did a glass with lipstick and a smelly carpet (that he hadn't noticed at all) make the whole room intolerable to her when she had done it with him in a dusty closet and an old couch in the basement? How could he take her issues seriously when all of a sudden she got so worked up about something that hadn't bothered her before?

And after all this time, didn't he at least deserve better than to be abandoned and ditched so abruptly? True, calling her 'mom' had been a major screw-up, he really had let that get away from him without thinking, and she was right to get mad at him about that. But why hadn't she at least tried to fight it out instead of running out as if he wasn't worth even arguing with? Because he wasn't even good enough for her to have a fight with?

Because you're really just her sextoy? Guy #1 whispered maliciously in his head and Chandler groaned and put his hands to his ears as if that would shut him up. Oh please not that again.

Since when do you prefer fights to running away? Guy #2 just had put to put his oar in. You should be glad she left before she scratched your eyes out. All things considered you got off lightly.

Lightly? Hell I paid for this room!

That's what I said, lightly …

Chandler gritted his teeth, shutting out the voices with a will, and lurched into the bathroom to shower and shave. It didn't help his headache much, nor did it improve his mood.

.

When after a long and nerve-wrecking busride and a shorter, but even more unpleasant subway ride he finally got back to his apartment, putting down his duffel with a sigh and falling into one of the barcaloungers, he felt even more like death warmed up. That the barcalounger turned out to be Joey's, and sported an infinite amount of Rollos just where he never suspected them, didn't really help.

"Hey, you're back!" Joey came out of his room and looked him over. "How was the conference?"

"Terrible. I fought with - my colleagues, the entire time." Right, his colleagues in misery: the wall, the bed, the ceiling, the TV … He found another Rollo under his butt and threw it away in disgust as Joey winced. "Are you kidding with this?"

"Oh, so your weekend was a total bust?" Joey seemed genuinely sympathetic and Chandler decided reluctantly not to take it all out on his roommate.

"Uh, no, I got to see Donald Trump waiting for an elevator."

Joey's eyes lit up. "You know, at the Taj Mahal, he has his own private glass elevator. That's right. Made by Otis Elevators. And they usually don't do glass."

Inspite of himself Chandler was impressed. "What kinds of stuff do you know?"

And right then Monica came in. He might have known he wouldn't have long to wait for her, she had probably heard him come in. It saved him the effort of going to her – and the hassle of getting up the nerve for it before.

"Hey, you're back too!" But she had no eyes for Joey, fixing him with that cool blue stare of hers instead. If she had spent a sleepless night, he could detect no sign of it.

"Yeah. Umm, Chandler can I talk to you outside for a second?" For a moment he considered flat out refusing, staying in his chair instead, leaving her high and dry, but there was Joey to consider. It was only Joey, granted, but it wouldn't do to get him suspicious, even now. Especially now when it was almost over.

"Hey, how was your chef thing?" Joey persisted and Monica closed her eyes and shuddered.

"Oh, it was awful. I guess **some** people just don't appreciate really good food."

Right. Two could play at that game.

"Well, maybe it was the kind of food that tasted good at first but then made everybody vomit and have diarrhea." Take that and chew on it.

She hardly batted an eyelash, just motioned for him to go to the hall with her. Might as well get it over with. Face the music. Go down with flying colors.

But to his surprise there was nothing of that. No scene. No recriminations. Instead she just opened her checkbook, rather businesslike, her face unreadable.

"I'd like to know how much the room was because I'd like to pay my half."

He swallowed his surprise – and secret relief – and tried to assume the same businesslike air as she.

"Okay, fine, 300 dollars."

"300 dollars?!" That shook her out of her icy calm, if only for a moment. And yes, it was too much, he was only too aware of that, but just couldn't for the life of him admit it to her.

"Yeah, just think of it as 25 dollars per room!"

Monica clenched her teeth and wrote out the check. He debated with himself if he should tear it up right in front of her eyes, or put it away quite nonchalantly and just couldn't decide. There was Joey to consider after all. If only he could get to talk to her alone somewhere so they could wrap it up nicely and quietly …

As if on cue Joey put his head out of the door. He should have known that his roommate hated it when his friends had a fight. He always claimed it spoiled his appetite.

"What are you guys woofing about?"

"Chandler stole a twenty from my purse!" said Monica wildly. Oh great, where did that come from?

Joey stared at him in shock. "Nooooo!"

"I was only stealing it back, the one that she stole from me!" Well, he had to say something. Sweet Moses, this was getting really ridiculous. What had he let himself in for? What was this anyway, Kindergarten?

"Stealing and now lying!" Monica was really getting into the game and Joey, instead of supporting his roommate and allegedly best friend, stuck to her side instead.

"You know what? Now that I think about it, I constantly find myself without twenties and **you** always have lots!"

Chandler threw up his hands. "Fine. You're right. You know me, can't get enough of those twenties. I'm a sucker for them. Keep sucking them up." He turned his back on Monica and went back to the apartment, clenching his teeth. When he headed to his room however, Monica cleared her throat.

"Um, guys – Ross wants to talk to all of us, so could we meet in the Perk in half an hour?"

"Sure" said Joey. "What is it now though? Has he told Rachel yet?"

"He tried. She's still mad about it. So please take it easy on him, okay?"

Chandler shrugged without turning around, picked up his duffel and went to his room. Just as he shut the upper half, he heard Joey whispering 'What's with him?' But he didn't wait for her answer.

.

Ross had finally abandoned his Pepto Bismol and switched to Alka Seltzer. He looked almost as bad as Chandler still felt. Especially now after listening to Ross' endless litany of woe.

"You should've seen the look on her face. I don't want Rachel to hate me! I don't know what to do."

So apparently other people had it tough too. Bummer. Then Joey offered advice that wasn't really advice, and after Ross left for the bathroom, voiced what everyone was thinking.

"Man, if anyone asked me to give up any of you, I couldn't do it."

They all agreed, even Monica at first, though she could not resist another shot at him.

"Maybe I could do it." At least Phoebe looked at her unbelieving, he was comforted to notice.

Then Rachel entered, still upset and wound up, and promptly started obsessing.

"Oh my God, it's happening. It's already started. I'm Kip."

Kip? Where did that come from? Oh … right. He saw where this was going. Joey, however, did not, and needed an explanation.

"Kip, my old roommate, you know we all used to hang out together." Was it really the same though? He thought not, Kip had been a right old -

"Oh, that poor bastard." Joey nodded understandingly. Right, bastard. Or better yet, a real asshole.

"See? Yeah, you told me the story. He and Monica dated, and when they broke up they couldn't even be in the same room together and you all promised that you would stay his friend and what happened? He got phased out!"

"You're not gonna be phased out!" Monica objected heatedly. Of course not. But someone else might. Someone a lot closer to home …

"Well, of course I am! It's not gonna happen to Ross! He's your brother. He's your old college roommate." Right, and how much did that count when all was said and done?

"Kip didn't even have to be Kip. We handled that all wrong. It was a long time ago." Phoebe was actually talking sense for a change. Kip had really been a whole different story. He had actually expected Monica to put up with his cheating – **and** remain his girlfriend even after his marriage that he claimed his parents had arranged for him and he really couldn't get out of.

"And it was before you and me were around. They didn't know what they were doing. Chandler had a mustache for crying out loud." Chandler winced. His beard was still a sore point with him. Rachel was still not convinced though and persisted in her gloomy outlook.

"It was just a matter of time before someone had to leave the group. I just always assumed Phoebe would be the one to go." Phoebe's jaw dropped. "Oh, honey, come on! You live far away! You're not related. You lift right out."

That actually would make it easier for him. If he lived far away. Where he didn't have to see Monica every day. Didn't have to remember the way she felt, looked, sounded, smelt, tasted … every single time they would meet, until he was nothing more than a grumpy old man in ratty slippers, bumping his broom against his ceiling to shut out everything that reminded him of her existence …

"No one will have to leave the group if I can help it" Monica said decisively, and Chandler bit his lip. "Alright, I have to go to work. Don't any of you dare to phase anybody out without me!" And with that she got up and left. Great. There went his chance for a quiet talk still today. Sundays were always busy, and this was the day after Halloween, so she wouldn't be in until very late, and in no mood to talk then. He'd better leave it until tomorrow. Allessandro's was closed on Mondays between late September and Thanksgiving, so she would be free tomorrow. He could call in sick – he'd wanted to do that anyway, let someone else deal with the end-of-the-month-reports – and see her when everybody had left and they had the place to themselves.

To discuss the formalities of their break-up at their leisure.

.

On Monday morning he got up early and called his assistant, trying to sound as sick as possible. She didn't ask any questions, so he assumed she accepted his story of a Halloween bug, or maybe just couldn't care less. Since Joey would be around for some more hours, he decided to go shopping for groceries. When he returned from his round that included a visit to Jefferson Market – above all he liked their big shopping bags – Joey was still there, in his barcalounger watching TV. When he grinned at him gleefully, Chandler started to feel rather uneasy.

"Hey, Mr. Bing. That hotel you stayed at called." Chandler froze, unable to think of anything except, ohshitheknowsheknowsheknows - "Said someone left an eyelash curler in your room."

Someone, not Monica, just someone, but oh shit, he'll figure it out, oh please god no, not now - He gulped, trying to pull himself together. "Yes that was mine." Ooops, no, wrong answer. Way to go man. Joey frowned.

"Cause I figured you'd hooked up with some girl and she'd left it there."

"Yes that would have made more sense" he admitted crestfallen. Why didn't he think of that? Anything, any story would have been better than that!

Joey stared at him accusingly. "You know, I don't even feel like I know you anymore man! All right, look, I'm just gonna ask you this one time. And whatever you say, I'll believe ya."

Fair enough. Chandler took a deep breath and tried to brace himself.

"Were you, or were you not –" with Monica? Doing it with her? No, and he wouldn't actually have to lie. Unfortunately.

"- on a gay cruise?!" Chandler's jaw dropped and for a moment he could only stare at his roommate, totally flummoxed. The pause kept lengthening until Joey shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes. Then they both started speaking simultaneously.

"Sorry, man, I didn't mean it that way, it's just that you've been so different –" "No, I wasn't, I can't believe you'd think that –" They both broke off again, gesturing for each other to continue, not wanting to finish themselves. Finally Joey waved him off.

"It's okay, man. I'm sorry I pushed you. You tell me when you're ready, okay?"

"Look, it's not that, it's just –"

"It doesn't matter, really! You can do what you want. I don't care! Just – just don't be such a stranger anymore, okay?!" Chandler wanted to protest still more, but then gave up and just nodded reluctantly, reminding himself once again that it really didn't do to underestimate Joey's powers of perception. They really needed to be more careful – oh what the hell. He. He alone needed to be more careful. There was no 'they'. Not anymore.

"Don't you have an audition today?" he asked, and Joey flinched, checked the time and rushed out head over heels. Chandler patiently waited for him to come back in again for his coat, and then once more for his script. When his roommate had gone for good, he took off his jacket, switched off the TV and sighed. Time to go to Monica's. And hunt out his sweatpants.

.

She was curled up on the couch, writing something on a notepad when he came in. As she turned her head to look at him and then got up, he thought he saw something like relief in her expression, and chided himself for allowing that false hope in. And then he realized he hadn't given any thoughts to about what to say to her, and immediately wished he could get out again and start over.

"I just came over to drop off…nothing …" Great way to start, Bing. That ought to impress her no end. He stuffed his hands down his pockets and shuffled his feet. "So that weekend kinda sucked, huh?"

She had her hands in her pockets too, gazing at him steadily. "Yeah, it did."

Was it just him, or did she actually sound quite friendly? Get it over with, man, no point in drawing this out. "So, I guess this is over ...?"

Now she frowned. "What?"

"Well, you know, you and me. It had to end sometime." At least they made it through six weeks. Six whole weeks. That had to count for something. But now Monica stared at him perplexed, as if he was talking Chinese.

"Why, exactly?"

Why? She was asking why? Because she had run out on him, because she couldn't stand to be around him anymore …

"Because of the weekend! We had a fight!"

"Chandler that's crazy!" Was that a laugh? Yes, she actually laughed. And came closer to him. "If you give up every time you'd have a fight with someone, you'd never be with anyone longer than — oohhh!"

He actually felt his jaw dropping, almost hitting the floor, as the sudden understanding flooded through him. Of course it wasn't over. How could it be? They'd had much worse fights when they had been just friends, and they had always made up afterwards. Why should this be different?

He smiled tentatively, still not sure of his footing. "So, this isn't over?" And she smiled back, oh my god, that awesome smile.

"You are so cute!" Yeah, that was exactly how he felt right now. Cute and stupid. And happy, especially when she went around the couch and reached out to him, putting a hand on his chest.

"Nooo! No, it was a fight! You deal with it and move on! It's nothing to freak out about!"

Had he been freaking out? Actually yes he had.

"Really? Okay. Great!" He still couldn't quite believe his luck, but then she actually put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed him, looking him squarely in the eyes.

"Welcome to an adult relationship!" And she leaned in to kiss him. She still wanted him. Sweet lord, she still wanted him, itwasn'toveritwasn'toveritwasn'tvover, they could go on, they - - wait, what?!

"We're in a relationship?" An actual, genuine relationship? She and him? The real thing?

"I'm afraid so" she said, quite straight-faced, and yet with a tiny twinkle in her eyes. Of course they were. Especially now, after they survived this fight.

He breathed in and smiled blissfully, enfolding her in his arms. **"**Okay." When they kissed, he closed his eyes, and almost felt the world around him straightening again, everything shifting to its right place where it belonged. Up was up again and down was down. No need to put on his sweatpants anymore and especially not those slippers. He felt her body molding itself against his, pressing close and his own almost instinctively answering her every move, their breaths synchronizing practically by themselves, their heartbeats mingling until he couldn't tell them apart anymore … When she broke the kiss to look at him, her pupils so much dilated her eyes appeared almost black, it actually took him a moment to find himself again.

"I missed you so much. What took you so long?" she asked, her voice even huskier than usual. His mouth dropped open.

"I … I thought you were mad at me."

"And you? Were you mad at me too?"

He stared at her, losing himself in her eyes. "You ran out on me. So yeah - but you were right. I was an idiot."

She sighed and nestled closer again. "Me too. I shouldn't have left. But that awful hotel – I just couldn't stand it anymore. And when you stayed there, and didn't call, I thought –"

"What?"

"That you couldn't stand me anymore."

"What? No! Of course not! Mon, this is crazy –"

She pressed her face against his shoulders, muffling her voice. "Yeah, I guess it is. Totally crazy. Why did that have to happen?"

"I don't know. It just did. But it's over. And I won't let it happen again. I promise." He stroked her hair and kissed her temple, and when she raised her head and opened her mouth to reply, he shut her up by kissing her again. And again. And again.

At last she pushed his head away from hers with an effort, breathing noticeably harder and only getting out her next question after a false start.

"Chan- Chandler, um, why – don't you have to go to work?"

"I called in sick."

"Oh. So then -"

"Yes."

"Ah. So -"

"Yes!"

"Umm … Oooohhhh …" They didn't even make it to the couch, hitting the floor somewhere between it and the coffee table instead, with Monica on top of him, squirming and moaning. He kept his mouth locked on hers while he fumbled at her bra fastening and jeans button simultaneously, only letting her go so she could get out of her shirt and t-shirt and shake off her bra. Then she was straddling him, panting and whimpering while he cupped her breasts in his hands and drew her down so he could kiss them and suck at the nipples. She pushed up his shirt and t-shirt impatiently and helped him to take it all off, and then tugged down his pants and boxers while he kicked off his shoes. Then her jeans came off, with her kicking and squirming under his hands, and finally her panties, which almost got torn as she wriggled out of them. He cupped her buttocks in his hands from underneath, getting her into position and gently spreading her labia with his thumbs before he pushed inside her. She shuddered and screamed softly at that, holding on to his shoulders and starting to pump her hips against him almost before as he was all the way in. For a long time they only fumbled and strained against each other greedily and breathlessly before their most urgent need was stilled and they could settle into a more leisurely rhythm. They kept at it like that until her breath started to speed up and hitch again, then he heaved himself up into a sitting position and held her to him, while she wrapped her legs around his waist so tight he thought he heard his ribs crack. He kissed her breasts again, licking the sweat off that had accumulated between them and in the hollow of her neck, while she threw back her head screaming when her orgasm hit. Just when he thought he could hold out a bit longer, his own overtook him as if out of nowhere, and he almost crushed her to him, bucking and twitching helplessly. Then it was over and he just held her, his face buried in her shoulder while she stroked his back and ruffled his hair, rocking gently to and fro.


	10. A Big Deal

He had come back to her. On his own impulse, without coercion, because he wanted to. Though technically he hadn't come exactly to make up – actually that silly goofhead had thought a stupid fight like that already meant that their relationship was over. But he had come to her nonetheless, had indeed come to her instead of moping around sulking and waiting until she came to him. True, it had taken him longer than she had thought, but she only had herself to blame for that. If they hadn't needed her so badly at work, he would have tried to meet her the night before and she – they – wouldn't have had to endure another night apart.

That night had been bad, even though she had worked very late and come home almost dead on her feet. And as tired as she was, she had only been able to sleep when she had promised herself to go to him if he hadn't come by noon. Or well, ten-ish. Sometime around that at least.

But he had beaten her to it, by a good half hour even, and he had been everything she had hoped – remorseful, sobered, reasonable, and mostly blaming himself for their lost weekend. He wasn't mad at her, or at least not so much that he couldn't tolerate her any longer, couldn't stand to be with her anymore. That she had been afraid of the most, that she had driven him off with her obsession and stubbornness, her inability to give in just so he could have a good time. During the long lonely hours in her bed she had convinced herself that nobody could ever stand to be with her for long, that she was really impossible to live with. And that her decision to wait for him to come to her was wrong, that she should have called, should have apologized first. That she had thrown away the best thing that had happened to her in years – hell, had ever happened to her – like garbage, kicked it away just because of a fit of rage.

But he had come and now they could go on, write off the lost weekend and take up where they had left off. Her relief had been so great that she had laughed a little too hard at his conviction that they had broken up when it wasn't a laughing matter at all. She had nearly lost him after all. But he had been so cute with his naïve belief that he had screwed up so bad she would never want him back. Of course she had wanted him back. If he could accept her as she was, still wanted her inspite of everything, she could do the same for him. Actually this was the only way this could work.

Everything was alright again. She had him back. They had made up, and sealed the make-up in their usual way – twice actually, the first time on the floor just under the couch and the second time after they had somehow found the energy to collect their clothes and stumble into her bedroom where they had fallen on the bed and picked up pretty much exactly where they had left off earlier. Now they were cuddling in her bed under the covers, with the room in semi-darkness due to the drawn blinds that kept out the afternoon glare. Chandler was resting his head on her chest, eyes closed, lazily nibbling at her breasts, while she played with his hair and stroked his back and shoulders.

"Chandler …?"

"Mmmmmmmmmhhh ….?"

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mmmmmh ... a little …. Why? Are you?"

She giggled. "A little …."

"Mmmmmmmh. This is so nice. So peaceful … quiet … alone … the whole day for us …"

"Not the whole day. Rachel will be back in … um, wow, five hours …"

"As I said, the whole day." He kissed her on her neck just above her clavicle and slid his hand down her side to her hip. Closing her eyes she sank back against the pillow and cradled his head against her chest while his hand started to roam again.

"Actually … I wanted to do some vacuuming … ah … and some … uh, oh god … cooking …"

"Really …?"

"Well, not right now I guess, but …"

"And what else?"

"Um. Actually I can't remember. Aaahh … yes, laundry, I really need to do that …"

"Laundry, huh? I thought we were doing that already … ouch, okay, yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm almost down to my emergency underwear."

"What's that?"

"You don't want to know."

"Oh. Well, if we keep pushing it off, I guess I will get to know it some time."

Chandler grinned and pushed himself up to get on top of her. "Okay, we can do laundry today – the real kind. But first the other kind." He slid his hands under her back and started to kiss his way down from her neck to her breasts and downward to her navel. She closed her eyes and buried her fingers in his hair, her breath-rate speeding up the further down he got, but still determined to draw out the foreplay to the last or at least until he couldn't hold out any longer. He had hardly arrived at her inner thighs however, his hot breath tickling her labia, when she started squirming and twisting already, drawing him up again urgently and wrapping her legs around him, her hunger for him, for having him inside her, and most of all feeling him push into her becoming too great. And of course he realized it at once and held back deliberately, teasing her until she clenched her hands on his back and buttocks, screaming with impatience. When he did enter her after what seemed like an eternity, it seemed it to her that he did it as slowly as he could, even drawing back again a few times until she was crazy with desire, screaming and shuddering, and at last pulling his head down and kissing him almost violently, mashing their lips together.

.

It had been a good day. A great Monday in fact after that disastrous Saturday and sad Sunday. They had made up. They had had sex. And more sex. And after that, yet even more sex. Great, hot, wonderful sex too each and every time. Then they had showered together, with a lot of groping and teasing of course, and had so much fun at it. Afterwards she had cooked them a meal and had let him help – or at least watch and feel her up while she cooked. After they had eaten they had rested a while, lazily making out on the couch and even napping a little. And finally they had collected all their accumulated laundry – which almost amounted to four big baskets – and gone down into the cellar to get it all washed. And made out a little more on the old easy chair while it did.

By the time they had finished and returned to their apartments Rachel had come back from work, in much better spirits now that she had talked with Ross and also managed to make up with Phoebe again who had been in a sulk ever since her 'lifting-out' remark the day before. After supper Chandler and Joey came over to hang with them, and she put out popcorn and cookies for everybody. Ross was working late, but Phoebe would probably come over soon, and then they all could have a nice game or watch a movie.

And later, after they had all left, Chandler would sneak over again for another go. Yes, life was pretty perfect again right now. Her laundry was done, so she had enough towels again, Rachel had calmed down, Joey had high hopes about the audition he'd been at the whole day, and Chandler was sitting right where she could look at him every now and then, exchange hot little furtive glances that made her tingle and prickle all over. Now if she only could find her eyelash curler to straighten out those lashes that had gotten stuck again …

And here was Phoebe, earlier than she had thought.

"Oh hey, Monica, I heard you saw Donald Trump at your convention."

Right, the only nearly positive thing in that awful weekend. "Yeah, I saw him waiting for an elevator." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Chandler start at that and frown, but there was nothing she could do about it. And that damn eyelash curler wasn't in her makeup bag either – wasn't anywhere to be found in fact. And she hated borrowing anything from Rachel, it only gave her an excuse to borrow - and then lose – things from her. But it was no use, she knew for a fact that Phoebe didn't have one …

"Hey, Rach, can I borrow your eyelash curler, I think I lost mine."

"Sure it's in the bathroom." Rachel said and right then Joey started to act really strange. The first thing she noticed was Chandler's horrified expression, then how Joey's eyes had gotten so big they seemed to almost pop out, just before he uttered little strangled cries and started flailing his arms about. For a split second she thought he was choking on popcorn – again – and wondered whose turn it was to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on him this time, then she noticed that he was pointing at her and Chandler in turn and it finally dawned on her what had happened. Oh no. Joey of all people had found them out. And Rachel and Phoebe were already staring at him puzzled and frowning, oh no, it was finished, they were screwed …

But then Chandler, bless him, swung into action.

"Joey, can I talk to you for a second?" He pulled him up and half dragged, half pushed his struggling and spluttering roommate into her bedroom. Monica shook off her daze and hurried after them, shooting an apologetic glance at Phoebe and Rachel still sitting bemusedly on the couch before she closed the door behind her. Chandler had tackled Joey on her bed and was holding him down, desperately pressing his hand on his mouth to shut him up, while Joey squirmed and fought.

"Uhhh, oh, ummmmoohh ..."

"Nononono …" But just as she arrived at the bed ready to take over, Joey stopped struggling and Chandler slowly released his mouth, a resigned expression on his face.

"Yes." His voice sent goose bumps down her spine, it sounded so unaccustomed quiet and serious from him. "Yes." He let Joey go and got up from the bed, while Joey rolled over and sat up, staring wildly from one to the other.

"YOU?! AND YOU?!"

Yes, oh god yes, and now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no return, no way out …

"Yes, but you cannot tell anyone! No one knows!" she pleaded anxiously.

"How?! When?!" Joey seemed close to an apoplexy.

"It happened in London." Chandler replied as calmly as possible.

"**IN LONDON?!" **They shushed him desperately, hoping that Rachel and Phoebe weren't listening at the door. Chandler again tried to explain as calmly as possible.

"The reason we didn't tell anyone was because we didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"But it is a big deal!" Joey was having none of it. "I have to tell someone!"

Typical. Exactly what they didn't need. They had to push him back on the bed almost forcibly.

"No-no-no-no-no! You can't!"

"Please, please, now, I know this is hard ..." she begged.

"It is! It hurts." Joey stared at her reproachfully. Oh god, how could they shut him up? It wasn't fair, they had been so careful! Well, almost.

"We know. Please? Please?!" she pleaded with him. "We just don't want to deal with telling everyone, okay? Just promise you won't tell!" Maybe Joey in the know wouldn't be such a bad thing after all, once they convinced him to keep quiet. At least now he seemed ready to consider it at least, though he was still struggling hard with the concept, hitching his breath and wringing his hands. But finally -

"All right!" Oh thank god, they had done it. She saw Chandler's shoulders slump with relief and knew exactly how he felt. Joey looked them over again and shook his head.

"Man, this is unbelievable! I mean, it's **great**, but …"

Yes it was. She saw a huge smile appearing on Chandler's face at that and her heart almost gave out.

"I know, it's great!" She walked right into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck, her body molding into his as they kissed. It was unbelievable, it was great, it was a big deal, and it was also right. So very right.

"Aww, I don't want to see that!" Joey protested half-heartedly. Well, he would have to get used to it now, like it or not. They even took their time over the kiss – after all it had to be at least three hours since their last one – and somehow it even added to the thrill to have Joey watching and making faces at them.

"Hey, you two, cut it out, will you?" He actually glowered at them, putting his hands on his hips, and that made her break the kiss, though very reluctantly. Chandler kept her close and she snuggled against him.

"Sorry Joe." Of course even Joey could see that Chandler wasn't sorry at all. If anything his wide grin belied the fact, and the way he kept squeezing her arm. Joey scowled at them.

"Look at you two! Man, I can't believe it. It's been what, two months?"

"Six weeks" they said together in a perfect chorus and then laughed, gazing at each other besotted while Joey threw up his arms in despair.

"Six weeks! For six weeks you've been – you had – you did and you – oh my god! And no one noticed? No one knows?!"

"Sshhhh, not so loud! Keep it down, will you? No, nobody knows yet. Except you now."

"Oh man ..!" he groaned. "But why?"

"Why? What do you mean?" she asked innocently. Joey threw up his hands again.

"Why now? You were friends for so long, why – how – I really don't get it!"

"That's okay, Joe." Chandler was trying hard to keep a straight face. "I don't get it either." He looked down at her smiling and she smiled back. "Yeah, me neither."

Joey spluttered and put his hands to his head. "But come on ..." But she cut him short. "I really think we should discuss this later, okay? Phoebe and Rachel are waiting, and Joey – they cannot know about us, okay? Please?"

When they emerged from the bedroom again, Phoebe and Rachel were still sitting on the couch, seemingly unconcerned, their faces carefully blank, although they must have been bursting with curiosity. Neither of them asked though and neither Chandler nor Joey offered any explanation. Joey kept his eyes down in fact and dropped heavily into his chair again, with Chandler hovering anxiously nearby. It almost got too much for her and she hurried into the bathroom with a mumbled excuse, biting her lips to keep from giggling.

In the bathroom she stared at herself in the mirror, taking deep breaths to calm herself. They had been found out. Their little bubble of secrecy and hiding had been burst. They were no longer the only ones in the know, now someone else knew about them, would watch and judge them from a third person's perspective. Their affair was no longer their own, to do with as they pleased, continue or end it at their leisure. Whatever they did, they would have to explain and justify to Joey who was now a part of it. It was as scary a thought as it was liberating too. And somehow it even added weight and meaning to their relationship, made it more real. Especially after they had come so close to ending it on that fateful weekend.

When she felt calm enough to face the others again and left the bathroom, Phoebe had gotten a round of Mad Libs going, and was already scribbling on her pad with gusto. Monica took up her pad and sat on the easy chair that Joey had vacated, where she could steal furtive glances at Chandler who sat next to her at the near end of the couch. But as much as she loved Mad Libs – or any game they all played together – she was still too upset to enjoy it now. In fact all she wanted now was to be alone with Chandler again, to talk about Joey finding them out with him, and of course, do other things … Her eyes met Chandler's once more for just a short hot moment and she was sure that he was thinking along the same lines.

And Phoebe cheerfully making up her own rules of the game didn't make it easier for her to enjoy it.

"The most popular Phoebe in tennis is called the overhand Phoebe. And if you win, you must slap your opponent on the Phoebe and say, 'Hi, Phoebe!'"

And just why did everybody have to laugh and go along when she had it all wrong? Did she really have to endure all that when it wasn't even played right – oh, wait, there was an idea.

"Oh that's cute! We really all enjoyed it." She smiled as pleasantly as possible. "But you know, it doesn't count." When she caught Chandler's glance she quickly winked at him, praying that he would understand.

"Count for what?" Phoebe actually looked blank.

"Count in our heads as - as good Mad Libs."

Chandler made a face and got up, putting down his pad, and the others followed suit.

"I guess I'm done." "Fun's over!" Even Rachel sighed and headed for the door. Monica tried her best to appear agitated, while secretly heaving a sigh of relief.

"Wait-wait, guys! If we follow the rules, it's still fun **and** it means something!"

But they all took off as one, trudging out the door and leaving her alone. Just as she had hoped.

"Guys, rules are good! Rules help control the fun!" Just in case they still could hear her, she threw down her pad and sighed loudly – seemingly with frustration, but really with relief.

.

Much later that night she was with Chandler in his bedroom when Joey came back and after a while knocked on the door.

"Um, guys …?" Chandler sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up reluctantly.

"What is it Joe?" He put on his bathrobe while Monica wrapped the covers around her.

"Um, nothing, but – could you turn it down … just a little … I mean –"

Chandler opened the top half of the door and glared at his roommate. "Turn down what?!" Joey caught sight of Monica and actually had the grace to blush.

"I mean, I'm just trying to sleep …" he mumbled, cringing under Chandler's sardonic look. There was a heavy pause and then Chandler sighed and turned to his nightstand, getting something out of the top drawer and handing it over.

"Here you are, Joey. Try those."

"What's that?!"

"Ear plugs" said Chandler while Monica started to giggle helplessly. "Trust me, they really work. Oh, and you're welcome to them. Sleep tight." And with that he closed the door again.


	11. The Change that didn't happen

It had been three days, but Joey had still not come to terms with the fact that he and Monica were in a relationship. Or even that they were together. Had something going. Were doing it. Yes, especially that still seemed to be absolutely unbelievably mindboggling out of this world to him. It was Thursday morning, they were at breakfast at their kitchen counter – on their own for once since Monica had left early for her monthly lunch date with her mother, or rather brunch since she still had the lunch shift this day. And Joey still kept pestering Chandler with questions, even though about half of him was still asleep and most of the other half worrying about an audition that afternoon. Some things just took a little longer to find a resting place in Joey's mind. Like forever.

"Sooo … in London, did you just do it in our hotel room or elsewhere too?"

"Just our room. We tried to do it in other rooms, but, well, people kept getting in the way –"

"Monica's room?"

"Rachel was there."

"Ross' room?"

"The honeymoon suite? Yup, tried it, but Ross came in -"

"That's too bad. Why didn't you just get a room of your own?"

Chandler opened his mouth and shut it again. Right, why hadn't they? In hindsight it seemed so obvious …

"I ... I don't know. It just didn't occur to us. I guess we just didn't have your – expertise."

Joey leaned back and smirked. "And after Ross came in you gave up."

"No … actually we wanted to have a go in the bathroom, but then he woke up. And then on the plane, since you know, we still were over international waters –"

"Huh?"

"You know. Not in New York. So the Not-In-New-York-Rule didn't apply yet."

"Oh. So you did it on the plane? Cool!"

"No, we didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because of you."

"What?"

"You kept talking to me while Monica waited for me at the toilets …"

Joey stared at him. "That was – oh my god. Dude, I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me – oh. "

"Yeah, well. It worked out in the end."

"I'd say! And then you really did it here? Right away?"

"Pretty much." Chandler grinned, reminiscing in his mind and Joey winced at his expression.

"Dude! I can't believe you two! Did you do it over here too?"

Chandler shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure."

"Just in your bed or –"

"Pretty much everywhere I think."

"What? On this counter?"

"Yup."

"On the foosball table?"

"Yup. Didn't hold up too well though."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It's really just a kind of foreplay table. Where else? On your chair?"

"Yup. On yours too."

"Du-ooh-de!"

"Oh come on. You did it on my chair too."

Joey glared and then grinned sheepishly. "I guess. So, where else?"

"Joey …"

"Come on! Did you do it on her couch?"

"Of course. Three … no, four times. I think." He shut his eyes pretending to count. "Does the carpet count extra, or does it belong to the couch?"

Joey pondered the question for a while. "Extra … I think. Alright, and ..?"

"The kitchen table …"

"Really? Coool! On the balcony too?"

"No, not the balcony. Too cold."

"Ah." Joey nodded wisely. "Yeah, that's really more of a summer place."

"I've put it on the list though."

"Good luck with that. So, anyplace else?"

"Well my office …"

"On the copy machine?"

"No! No, Monica didn't want that. But we did it at Ross place once …"

Joey grinned, and then suddenly narrowed his eyes at him.

"The closet!" he exclaimed. "You totally did it in the closet! When, when I was at PBS … weren't you?"

"No, not when you were at PBS."

"What?"

"You were already back. Don't you remember? We switched shirts? Incidentally, where is my shirt, still at your grandma's?"

Joey winced again. "Yeah … I'll ask her about it first thing tomorrow."

"You better. That's my favorite shirt!"

"Oh. Got it. You know I think she couldn't find any buttons that matched –"

"Oh no –"

"But – it'll be alright. Trust me. You'll get it back. Soon."

"When?"

"Well, right now she's in Napoli –"

"Oh, good, and did she take it with her?"

"No! It's in her work basket."

"So? Can't you get it? I don't care about the buttons!"

"Dude, it's her work basket. Nobody's allowed to touch her work basket. She'd kill me if I tried."

Chandler threw up his hands and groaned.

.

Joey had said he needed to be at his audition at 3 p.m. and wouldn't be back until 5 at the earliest, so he decided to leave work early in order to catch a couple hours with Monica alone, to make up in advance for Friday where they couldn't meet because she had a double shift on that day.

He had just gotten home and changed when he heard her running up the stairs, and the sound of her heels told him already that things hadn't gone well at the brunch or at work. Probably both. He got to his door just in time to catch her still in the hallway as she was searching for her keys. She jumped when he pounced on her and then just threw her arms around him with a huge sigh of relief, leaning against him while he pulled her into his apartment and kicked the door shut. He could still feel the nervous tension radiating from her, as if she was on a tightly coiled spring. Her eyes were glittering much too bright and she kept clenching her teeth. For a long moment they remained that way, while he stroked her hair and back soothingly and kissed her on the neck, until she relaxed at last and loosened her tight grip on him to get out of her coat. Then he drew her to him once more, bent his knees and picked her up bodily, hefted her in his arms while she squealed and giggled, and carried her into the living room. His breath gave out when he reached his barcalounger however, so he decided it was high time for a cuddle and sat down with her still on his lap. With one arm around her shoulder holding her to him, he stroked her hips and thighs over that tight grey skirt that she had bought especially for those lunch dates and that he bet her mother hadn't approved of, while surreptitiously searching for the zipper. Or button. Or slit, or any opening that would allow him access so he could slide his hand between her legs in that smooth pantyhose, while she squirmed and pressed against him, running her fingers through his hair while they kissed deeply and hungrily, coming up for air only to go for it again wildly.

But just when he slid his other hand further down her arm to cup her breast, the door opened and Joey came in, much too early, and scowling at them belligerently.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! None of that, not while you're living under my roof!"

"What?" They stared at him bewildered while Monica slid from his lap and they got up. My roof?! He still owed him rent for October, and this was already November the fifth.

Joey put his backpack on the kitchen counter and wagged an accusing finger.

"Look, just because I **know** about you two, doesn't mean I like looking at it."

"Aren't you supposed to be at an audition for another hour?" Chandler shot back and Joey's scowl deepened.

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm not a middle-aged black woman!" He hefted his backpack again and made a beeline for his room, while they gaped at him even more bewildered. "And I'm also sorry if **sometimes** I go to the wrong audition!"

Ah, that explained so much. If there was one thing Joey hated it was a wasted audition – and even more if it was wasted through his own fault. Or that of his crazy agent.

Still on his way to his door Joey turned around once more to glare at them.

"Okay, look, if I have to pretend I don't know about you two, then you two are gonna have to pretend there's nothing to know about!"

Jeez, what was that all about? There was nobody here to pretend to. But still, he had a point, it wouldn't do for anybody else to find out yet. Not while they were still getting used to Joey knowing about them. And above all else they couldn't afford to get him mad at them.

"Okay." They said it together, rather meekly too, and adding a halfhearted "Sorry." Joey glared at them once more and at last went into his room. And naturally the second his door fell into the lock they were in each other's arms again, kissing as if there was no tomorrow. Until Joey called out from inside his room.

"I can hear that!"

This was getting ridiculous. And now his bedroom was out too, that only left -

"Rachel's at work." Monica said, smiling suggestively, and he spun around and rushed to the door, followed closely by her. While they stood at her door and Monica fumbled for her keys, they faintly heard Joey call out once more behind them.

"I can still hear you!"

Yeah, good luck with that. As soon as Monica had that door open and hung up her coat, he would whisk her away to her bedroom and mount another attack at that tight skirt. Maybe they would even manage a second go before Rachel came back – oh shoot.

"Um, hang on, I left the condoms in my room. Be right back!"

When he darted into his room to get the box from the nightstand he heard Joey get up and walk to the door. So instead of just tearing off two or three of the little squares he took the whole coil, letting it unroll and went out again with the condom chain trailing from his hand, whistling and grinning cheerfully at his roommate wo glared at him silently from his bedroom door with his arms crossed. Yeah, it was a cheap joke, but he just couldn't resist. Some things had definitely changed for the better around here.

Monica was sitting on her bed, waiting for him, still fully dressed – she knew how much he loved undressing her, especially when she was in such a severe and businesslike outfit. When she saw the long coil of condoms she giggled.

"Are you sure those are enough?"

"You should have seen Joey's face. I just couldn't resist." He got on his knees before her and put his head on her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and sliding his hands under her tight black shirt. She buried her fingers in his hair and sank back on the bed, sighing contentedly.

"Mmmh … I really needed that … ah … um, careful with those buttons –"

"Got them …" He opened the buttons one by one from the bottom, kissing the exposed areas of her abdomen and belly as he went. "So, I take it your mother was in good form today?"

"Mmmh. Like you wouldn't believe. That brunch was even worse than our usual lunch dates." She pushed her hands under his vest and sweater to trail her fingers over his shoulders and down his spine, causing him to break out in goosebumps as she caressed each vertebra separately.

"Stands to reason. Since it was earlier, she'd still have all her ammunition." He arrived at her bra and managed to open it with one hand while his other was still busy figuring out the zipper of her skirt.

"Oh god. Maybe I should only have dinner with her from now on. Or a midnight snack." She raised herself slightly as he pushed the shirt over her shoulders to wriggle out of the sleeves and bra straps and then lay back again, sighing and screaming softly when he started to kiss her breasts and suck at her nipples. When his sweater got too hot for him he let go of her briefly to tear it over his head and then trailed his hands down her legs to her feet, to remove her shoes. Then came her skirt, drawn down slowly and lovingly over her hips and legs, and her pantyhose which he pushed down each leg separately while kissing his way down it as he went. When it was gone and he reached for her thong, her breath rate had noticeably sped up and she clenched her hands on his neck and shoulders as he kissed the inside of her thighs and then her labia while he eased the thong over her buttocks and thighs. Then she kicked it away and scooted back on the bed, drawing him up and over her, kissing him and fumbling urgently at the zipper of his pants while he kicked off his shoes. She yanked his pants and boxers down and grabbed his penis, squeezing it gently while she brought the tip to her mouth to lick it. He tore off a condom from the coil with shaking hands and let her open it and put it on him. Then she lay back, opening her arms and legs to him invitingly, wrapping herself around him, squirming and straining and moaning into their kiss as he entered her.

.

They joined Joey on the couch in Central Perk a couple hours later, ignoring first his knowing grin and then his scowl as Chandler put his arm around Monica's shoulder as unobtrusively as possible. When Phoebe entered, he hurriedly draped it over the backrest of the couch instead, but she was too preoccupied with the big carton she put on the big chair to notice anything.

"Hey, what's that?" Monica asked.

"Yeah, my mom sent me a family heirloom that once belonged to my grandmother. Can you believe it?! A year ago I didn't even have a family, and now I have heirlooms for crying out loud!"

"Well, the only heirloom I ever got was a feather boa." Monica frowned at him and he elaborated. "Got it from my dad. He got it from his dad." He secretly rejoiced when she couldn't help smiling and carefully capped off the joke. "How did I ever get born?"

His complacency was jolted however when Phoebe matter-of-factly took out a huge knife from her boot to open the box with. Monica however never battened an eyelash so he guessed she'd seen it before. Then he got the next shock as Phoebe threw the contents of the box disgustedly at them. Joey nearly shot out of his seat when it unfolded in his lap, until he noticed that it was just a fur coat and clutched it to him delightedly. "Ooh, soft. Is this mink?

"Yeah! **Why** would my mother send me a fur? Doesn't she know me but at all! Plus, I have a perfectly fine coat that no innocent animal suffered to make!"

"Yeah, just some 9-year-old Filipino kids who worked their fingers bloody for 12 cents an hour." He only realized what he'd said when it was already out, as always, and as always he tried to take it back though he knew perfectly well that it never worked. "That didn't happen, I made that up!"

Fortunately Ross chose that moment to enter and save him further embarrassment. He had a flyer that Gunther tried in vain to stop him from putting up and that apparently listed things he needed to get rid of - or rather all of his things, as Monica stated correctly. Because Emily wanted him to get rid of everything – especially everything to do with Rachel - and start a new life with her. Change everything.

"Look, if I can just do what Emily wants and **get** her to New York, I'm sure everything will be fine."

Yeah, and believe in Santa Claus and the Easter bunny too while he was at it.

"Okay, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"

"After what **I** did? Can you blame her?"

Poor Ross. He could only hope that Ross would manage to get his wife to see some sense again. Or he would be lost to them, maybe for good. As soon as Ross headed for the bathroom – after his stomach troubles had been resolved his bladder had started to act up – Joey voiced what they were all thinking, and getting all het up about it too.

"What is he doing? What, Emily, thinks Ross's furniture has got Rachel cooties? Everything's gettin' all messed up! Emily won't let Ross see Rachel, we're not gonna stop seeing Rachel, hence Ross stops seeing us!"

"I hate this. Everything's changing." Phoebe said sadly.

"Yeah I know, we're losing Ross, Joey said hence …" But deep inside he was more concerned than he let on. He didn't want things to change. If more things changed it would mean that ultimately his relationship with Monica would change too, if he wanted it or not. And he wasn't ready for it. Not by a long way.

Finally Joey grudgingly agreed to try and keep his feelings about Emily to himself, like the others – with the help of his acting skills if necessary - and when Ross returned from the bathroom the subject was closed. For now. Though it still continued to worry him.

.

The following morning, as they met in the Perk again for their Friday morning coffees, Phoebe tried to fob off the fur coat to Joey who seemed quite taken with it, putting it on and parading with it.

"Eh? All right, what do you think?"

"You're on in five, Ms. Minnelli." Chandler commented drily. Joey pouted and reluctantly returned the coat to Phoebe who glowered at him. And then Ross arrived with the news of even more changes.

"Oh, actually, great news! I just got off the phone with Emily and it looks like I'm moving to a new apartment. Her thought is, and I agree, fresh new furniture, why not a fresh new apartment? Her cousin has this great place to sublet, it's got a view of the river on one side and Columbia on the other."

"That's way uptown!" Joey protested. "That's like three trains away!" When Phoebe pinched him viciously, he changed his sentiment in a hurry. "Which is great! I love to ride that rail!"

Ross had to admit that it was a little far from work, but thought it would give him time to get things done while commuting, so he had actually been getting the gift of time. Great. Add space to that and they could make a continuum – hopefully one in which nothing would change so much so fast.

Later when Ross had left Monica and Rachel stormed in all excited because they had met – and fogged – some monster guy in the cellar. Rachel especially was very proud of having fogged this 'crazy-eyed, hairy beast man, like a bigfoot or a yeti', and quite crushed when it turned out that it just had been their new neighbor.

"Yeah, you fogged Danny." Joey smirked.

"Please! We did **not** fog Danny! Who's Danny?

"Dan just moved in downstairs. Yeah, he just got back from like this four-month trek in the Andes. Nice fella."

Right, that guy, the one he had secretly named 'Tarzan'. 'Yeti' seemed a much cooler name though, why hadn't he come up with that?

"Oh, he's nice. He's nice! You know, you always stick up for the people we fog!" Monica claimed heatedly and he was glad he had kept out of this discussion. Bug bomb spray was really hard to get out of one's clothes and hair. He knew only too well.

.

He had to hand it to Emily, she got things moving much faster than any of them had expected. Quite early the next morning already all of them were busy helping Ross to pack and clear out of his apartment. All of them except Rachel of course, who had quite tactfully for once elected to go shopping instead. After the packing was finished they started to carry the cartons and furniture down to the move-it-yourself van Ross had rented. When it turned out that the big carton would not be moved – no wonder since it contained basically rocks – he snatched up a smaller carton and rushed down the stairs after Monica, hoping for a quick cuddle or at least a kiss on the landing. They hadn't seen each other since the Yeti incident and he was getting quite desperate for her. If only Ross didn't have to move, they could have had the whole Saturday morning to themselves in his bedroom. Instead he had to move rocks.

Yup, he really hated it when things changed.

He caught up with Monica on the second floor landing and they hugged and kissed in a corner until Phoebe came in again downstairs and got into the elevator. When all three of them returned to the almost empty apartment, Joey had just come clean to Ross about their true feelings about Emily. And yes, they didn't really hate Emily, but Monica was right, the sacrifices she demanded from Ross were just too much, and he said as much.

"Look, we just think that maybe she's being a little unreasonable."

"Unreasonable? How about we have this conversation when one of you guys gets married! You have **no** idea what it takes to make a marriage work! All right, it's about compromise! Do you always like it? No! Do you do it? Yes! Because it's not all laughing, happy, candy in the sky, drinking coffee at Central Perk all the time! It's real life, okay? It's what grown-ups do!"

And with that he stormed out, leaving them looking at each other sheepishly.

"I think he's right. You guys hang out at the coffeehouse way too much." Phoebe said sadly.

"Well, I could do with one more coffee there" he replied and after some reproachful glances and sighs the others agreed.

In the Perk Joey took great care to sit between him and Monica and moreover refused to take the blame for Ross' outburst, just like Phoebe who now refused to get rid of her fur coat that by then she had come to love, claiming it was the best thing she'd ever had wrapped around her, including Phil Huntley, whoever that was – he really didn't want to know.

After they had restored their morale again with coffee they returned to apologize to Ross, trying to get him around again with a new song by Phoebe (which she got no chance to try out, no matter how hard she tried) and an invitation to dinner. Chandler's heart sank at that offer of Monica's because it meant that the evening too would be lost for them, but had to admit that some things were more important. More important even than sex with Monica.

Fortunately not a lot were.

And when evening came, things indeed looked up a little. Monica had happily spent the whole afternoon preparing an elaborate dinner – since it contained all sorts of delicious stuff, a lot of it wrapped and baked, and there was wine too, it was really a feat – Joey was losing himself in a new fantasy of possessing perfect acting skills, Rachel was happy because she had been on a pizza date with Danny the Yeti of all people and Phoebe got all excited when she discovered that Ugly Naked Guy had finally returned to his apartment and they all could watch him again. Indeed, all six of them together peaceably united at the living room window watching the UNG in all his naked glory unpack.

"Wow, this is so weird. I just realized this might be the last time we'll all be hanging out together." As Monica said that he felt a shiver run down his spine. Could this really be it? Were these changes really worth it just to maintain a marriage? A marriage he was quite sure was doomed anyway?

"It's almost as if he knew ..." Joey added reverently.

Then the phone rang and it was Emily trying to track down Ross once more and when she found out that Rachel was there things finally came to a head. He couldn't quite understand Emily's reasoning, since Rachel couldn't really help being there – after all it was her apartment – but apparently it was the final straw for her. Ross retired to the balcony for a long discussion, not really helped by Joey's meddling with the phone, and when he returned, grey-faced and hollow-eyed, it was over for good.

"My marriage is over" was all he could say, and it was enough. They sat him down at the kitchen table, promising to help him with everything, to get him through this, and Phoebe even wrapped her fur coat around him to keep him warm. And that was that. One big change averted after all.

Now all that remained was getting Ross' furniture back from Gunther.

.

He hadn't really expected her to sneak over that night, since Ross had been so miserable that Monica offered to let him stay the night and sleep on her couch, so when she did come to his room and wordlessly slid under the covers, he was too surprised and also relieved at first to notice that she was crying. When he finally did, he contented himself with just holding her close, until she calmed again.

"Is it our fault?" she asked at last, her voice muffled because her face was pressed to his chest.

"No. No, it's not. It was bound to happen. It couldn't have worked in a million years."

"But he was right. You have to compromise. And sacrifice. We should have done that too. If we had all tried a little harder -"

"Maybe, but it would only have delayed the end a little longer. I think it's good he got out now. This way he's still got us. And we've still got him."

"Mmmh."

"Did you really want Emily to have him all for herself? Rachel would not have been enough for her. Eventually she would have cut him off from you too, and me and the others, and then your parents even. You'd never have seen him again."

"I guess you're right. But I still feel sorry for her. I wanted them to work so badly."

"Yeah, I guess me too. But it wasn't meant to be. Some changes just aren't meant to happen after all."

"What?"

"As Joey said. Too many things have been changing. At least that's one change that didn't happen." He tightened his arms around her and gently kissed her on the neck. She stirred at that and raised her head, searching for his mouth and they kissed, gently at first and then with more urgency. As his hands started roaming again she clung to him, breathing heavily, then suddenly she drew back.

"Oh no …"

"What?"

"I forgot to bring the condoms … Do you have some more here?"

He closed his eyes and swore.


	12. The Love-Bite

_A/N: I'm really sorry that it took so long to update this story. You know how it is, RL getting in the way, also 'Worth a Shot' is something of a priority for me now. But I've already got ideas for the next chapters – that's right, those that will be about TOW the Thanksgiving Flashbacks – and I promise that I won't let you wait that long again. Unless RL intervenes again …_

_._

_._

Thank god she had a boyfriend.

Having a boyfriend really had a lot of advantages. Very often at times and in places she had never before realized how handy and helpful having a boyfriend could be.

Take the health inspection for example. Before Chandler she had not only been worried about the state of her restaurant (which she still was, inspite of all the work and effort she put into its maintenance) but also about Gary, the health inspector. Before she had never quite known how to handle him, if too much flirting would give him the wrong idea or alarm him, if too little flirting would alienate or even antagonize him, or even if flirting at all was the right and appropriate thing to do with such an uptight, dorky guy like Gary. She just couldn't tell if he actually expected her to make a move or even wanted her to, and how she would have to go about it, if he did, even if she could bring herself to do it, if she was even desperate enough to consider dating him (and the longer that awful dry spell after Pete had gone on the more she had tended to think she was). Consequently after every previous inspection she had been a nervous wreck for days afterwards, forever wondering what she could have done better, never satisfied with the way she had handled things. Even though she always got close to 100 points. Never actually 100 points of course, by now she was sure that Gary was incapable of giving anyone that. But close. Very very close.

Not close enough. Never close enough for her. Until now.

Now she had a boyfriend. And a healthy, vigorous, amazing, wonderful, awesome, thrilling sex life. And among other things it meant she didn't need to worry about Gary anymore, how to treat him. She could be serene, at ease, cool, calm and efficient. And above all, unworried. She could see him for what he was – a rather sad case of narrow-minded, frustrated and clumsy uptightness - and not really be surprised when she only got 98 points again. After all he had had to resort to a rather cheap trick to justify the two points off. She could live with that. Well almost.

But what did surprise her was how smitten Phoebe seemed to be with him. True, there was no accounting for Phoebe's taste in men, that much she knew. But Gary? Yummy? That had to be the oddest pairing ever. But after she'd gotten over her surprise, she was glad. Since the birth of the triplets Phoebe hadn't dated anyone and that was almost two month ago. It would do her a world of good. Gary too, judging by the way he missed the door and almost walked into a hatstand after she'd given him her phone no.

It made her wonder too, if she herself would have been so ecstatic about it if it weren't for Chandler. If she didn't already have a boyfriend.

And then there was the book that her mother had given her, going on and on about how wonderful it was and how much it would help her to find a boyfriend and everything else that she clearly needed and still lacked. By all accounts that "Practical Intuition in Love", by Laura Day would practically guarantee to solve all her problems with love. While she was leafing through it, shaking her head at the "exercises" and "tasks" the book expected her to take in hand (and that before Chandler she would probably have done without even thinking twice) she was amazed to find that she could only muster some mild amusement at it. And quite a lot of relief.

And as yet another example take Rachel and her frustration with Danny, the guy who kept evading her. Without Chandler, if she still had been stranded in that dry spell, she would have been as puzzled by his behavior as Rachel, but now she saw quite clearly how clever he was at playing her and pushing her buttons. If Rachel hadn't been so obvious about losing interest in Ross again now that he was free again for her, and then so determined to outmaneuver and trap Danny in his own game, she would have tried to intervene or at least put her wise. But now, listening to her preaching about 'retaining control' and how the power was up for grabs, she simply couldn't find it in her to care. Let them play that game as much as they wanted. Also, if the project Danny would distract Rachel from her never-ending quest to find out about her secret boyfriend she was all for it. Either way she was well out of it.

After all, she had a boyfriend now. Finally, for almost 8 weeks now, and she still couldn't get over how amazing it all was now. How easy and enjoyable life had become for her. How amusing and laughable a lot of things were now that had driven her quite crazy before.

True, she couldn't really expect things to continue like this, not really. There would be problems and worry and heartbreak before very long, there always were. The very fact that life was so easy right now was a reason to worry all in itself. It was too good to be true. But right now she was content to lean back and watch the others deal with their problems. And enjoy herself.

She got the first inkling of trouble on early Thursday morning in Chandler's bed. Ever since Joey had found out about them and Chandler had gotten him to be a bit more lenient, they had shifted their secret meetings mostly to his place. It was easier and less risky for her to sneak over to the guys' apartment than for Chandler to come to her bedroom and risk waking up Rachel – if not with his sneaking, then by their noise once they got going and which they found harder and harder to suppress or at least contain.

"Chandler, what's going on? You've been acting weird since I came. Is it something I said?"

"No. Of course not. It's not you. Actually it's me." He put his head back and sighed dramatically. "I think I did something stupid. Really stupid."

She got up on one elbow. "What? What did you do? Did you tell anyone –"

"No. No! Not that. No, I – well, it's Ross. You know Emily's cousin threw him out?"

"Threw him out? I thought he didn't want to live there anyway –"

"He has to move out until Friday. Latest. Actually tomorrow – well, today already."

"Tomorrow? But where will he go? And with all his stuff and –"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, we thought – that is, Joey and I – we –"

"Chandler …!"

"We offered him to move in here. With us."

"What? Here?"

"Shsh! Joey's asleep! Yeah, well, what else could we do? You should have seen him, he was a total wreck. His hair was **wild!**"

"Ross. Here. Oh god. How would that work? I mean – where will he sleep?"

"On the couch of course."

"But that's –"

"Right in front of my bedroom. I know. I told you it was stupid."

"Really stupid" she agreed. "And no matter what, I won't do it here with my brother on that couch by your door. No way. Uh-uh."

Chandler sighed deeply again. "I know."

"But apart from that – "

"Yes?"

"Well, it's stupid, but also sweet. Actually I'm glad you care so much about him too."

"He's my friend. And Joey's."

"Yeah. And it's not as if he had anyplace else."

"Right. And I don't think he'll stay that long. Just a few weeks max."

"You really think so?"

"Don't you?"

"I'm not sure …" Actually she was quite sure it would take more than a few weeks to get Ross to move once he had settled in. But Chandler would figure it out soon enough.

And maybe – just maybe this wasn't all that bad. It would heighten the risk, true, make things more uncomfortable for them, but also more of a challenge. Just lately she felt they had settled too much into a routine that kept them safe, but had also become rather tedious. Too much of this and they would get careless again, risking exposure. So this was really all for the good.

Especially since it would keep Chandler on his toes, heightening his desire for her even more the harder it got for them to get together. Not that his desire – or hers for that matter – had diminished in any way until now. So far. But you never knew.

.

.

Ross arrived with his rented van early on the afternoon so there was still time for her to help him before she had to go to work. Chandler was at work, but Joey was there and Danny, alerted by the noise they made on the stairs, immediately pitched in which she greatly appreciated. Her respect for him even grew more when he didn't once ask after Rachel, let alone for her advice about how to deal with her. She thought it more and more likely that Rachel had finally found her match in him.

It amazed her too how cheerful Ross had become all of a sudden, and just because Joey and Chandler had offered to take him in. It made her feel guilty for not doing the same or her utter relief that they had beaten her to it. As much as she loved him and dearly wanted to support him, she just couldn't imagine having him around at her place all the time. Not anymore.

Still, she couldn't imagine the guys making it work, especially after they had taken all the boxes up and stacked them in the living-room until there was hardly any room to move around. Just how they would be able to live squeezed together like that and with the birds on top eluded her. But Ross was unfazed.

"This is so great! I really think I've been living alone for too long. This will be so good for me!"

"Really? This?" She let her gaze sweep over the cram-full apartment. "Squeezing around all those boxes? Sleeping on the couch? Sharing the shower? Dealing with the birds?"

"Sure! It's only temporary anyway. Joey'll keep the birds in his room, and we will distribute the boxes some more. It'll be great. I really love it!"

"Why didn't you put some of those boxes in storage? You don't need your fossil samples with you all the time, do you?"

"Aw, no, but it's so expensive. And I'd be worried about them all the time. This is much better. Come on, Monica, I know you couldn't live like that –"

"You bet I couldn't!"

"But I can. And I will."

"Really? I give it a week, max."

"A week? I bet I can take until Christmas! At least!"

Joey, who had just come in, nearly dropped the last box at that.

.

.

After Gary had picked up Phoebe at Central Perk she had another go at the book, until Chandler and Joey came down, looking rather long-faced. After a pleading look from Chandler Joey reluctantly watched the door while he dropped on the couch beside her and drew her to him for a long deep kiss.

"So how's it going?" she asked and Chandler groaned and buried his head in her lap. "What?"

"He already changed the message on our answering machine …!"

"He messed up our TV!"

"He threw out our coffee machine!"

"Yeah, thank god for that, his is way better …"

She smirked. "Yup, sounds like Ross alright. You don't know what you've let yourself in for."

Chandler frowned at her. "What would you know about it? You haven't lived with him for ten years!"

"Well no, but when he and Rachel dated, he spent almost every night at our place. And he drove me up the wall."

Chandler buried his head on her lap again, but Joey shrugged. "So? You're a girl! You're Monica! It's different with us, we're guys, we can take it. Come on, it's our friend! We just have to – adapt."

"Yeah, we'll see about that. I give you guys a week. Max."

Chandler looked up at that. "A whole week? You mean he will stay that long?"

"Unless you throw him out, he'll stay put. I'd say at least until Christmas."

"Oh god" he groaned and put his head back on her lap. Joey got himself a coffee and dropped into the easy chair.

"I was wondering, how will you two make it work? Just so you know, you're on your own, I won't keep him off your back!"

"That's okay, Joey. We'll think of something. Don't worry about it."

"Chandler will have to sneak over to me for a change."

"But what will you say when Ross catches you?"

Chandler shrugged. "I don't know. I'll pretend I heard something in the hallway?"

"Or that you started sleepwalking." She suggested.

"Sleepwalking? Coooool!"

Chandler smiled at Monica. "Sleepwalking it is."

.

.

He didn't come over that night, but she had already figured that it was because Ross hadn't been able to sleep the first night in the new place. Later next morning when they had a moment alone after breakfast, he confirmed her assumption.

"Oh god, it was terrible. He kept tossing and turning, and switching on the light, and reading, and nodding off and waking up … I tried to get out 3 times, but he woke up every time and now he thinks I've got bladder infection."

She laughed at that. "Oh you poor dear. It's okay, I didn't think you could make it anyway. Let's hope he'll sleep better this night."

"I hope so too" he said feelingly. "But don't wait up."

"No, I won't, when you come in you can wake me up with a kiss."

He grinned. "Better not sleep too tight then."

.

.

She didn't and actually woke up as soon as he cautiously opened the door and crept in, taking off his t-shirt and boxers already on his way to the bed. Then he got under the covers she held up for him and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her and pressing against her urgently while they both sighed simultaneously, deeply content. For a while they lingered like that, groping and stroking each other, their tongues teasing and entwining, then she felt his growing erection push against her searchingly and shifted her hips, letting it slide between her legs and rubbing herself on it, softly moaning, while he kissed her neck and then her breasts, sucking on her nipples. Just when she thought he wanted to draw out the foreplay again and got impatient he heaved himself over her and pushed into her urgently, almost roughly. She clawed at his shoulders and buttocks while she rocked with him and desperately tried to suppress her screams by kissing him. They groaned and moaned, straining against each other and then she felt herself dissolving, spreading out, her climax shooting through her as he pushed his hands under the small of her back and lifted her up slightly. When she realized she could not stop her scream any longer she pressed her mouth against his shoulder just over the clavicle and let it stifle her scream, her eyes squeezed tight. He shuddered and panted and she could feel his heart slam and thud against his ribs as he thrust violently against her for the final few times. Then he collapsed on her puffing and panting, pressing his face against her neck.

"Whew … whoa … oh my god …"

"I know … oh my … that was …"

"Amazing. Oh god. I can't … I have to get my breath back …"

"No, don't move … it's okay …" She cradled him in her arms and crossed her ankles over his buttocks, reveling in the feel of him still inside her, gently twitching and straining a little. He brought his hands up and stroked her hair and face while he kissed her neck. When at last he raised himself a little she felt him wince suddenly.

"What is it?"

"I don't know – did you just … bite me?"

"WHAT?!"

"Shhhh! You'll wake Rachel! Maybe Ross too!"

"I'm sorry … here, let me see … oh god." She released him as he rolled away from her and groped for the light switch, blinking in the sudden glare. He sat back on his knees and smiled at her. And there on his shoulder where she had pressed her mouth –

"Oh god. Oh god! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Does it hurt?"

He shrugged and winced. "Not much. It's okay, don't fret. You couldn't help it. Does it bleed?"

"Nno-o … no, there's no blood. But – oh god, I can see my teeth –"

"Really?" He actually grinned and twisted his head trying to look at it. "Have you got a mirror here?"

When she got out her compact from her purse and held it for him, he studied the mark and whistled. "Wow. Were you marking your territory?"

"Of course not! It was an accident! I didn't know what I was doing!"

His grin got even broader at that. "Really?"

"Chandler!"

"Okay, okay. It alright, really! Don't feel bad. It's no big deal. Actually, it's quite – flattering."

"Oh god, please promise you won't show it around. That would just be too embarrassing."

"Of course not." But his expression said something different and she groaned. Guys.

"If I'd known you'd go all macho on me … Have you never got a love-bite before?"

"A what?" When he stared at her she wanted to kick herself.

"You know, a hickey."

"Nono, that's not what you said. You said love-bite."

"I know, but isn't it the same?"

"No. Not for me." For a moment he looked rather serious and she held her breath, suddenly very nervous and not daring to meet his eyes. Then he smiled wryly again and put the mirror back on the night stand.

"Alright, back to business. Where were we?"

She switched off the light and turned to him to snuggle into his arms, gently brushing her lips across the bite-mark. His arms tightened around her and he drew back her head to kiss her.

"Is it really okay?" she whispered.

"Yes. Yes, I swear. You can bite me as much as you want. Eat me up, suck me dry. I don't mind."

"Suck you dry? Ewww."

"Not to your taste, am I then?"

"Not your blood. Also I think you have a better use for it."

"That's true. Also I don't know how good I'd be in bed as a vampire. And then I'd bite you back."

"Well, would you like to?"

"No."

"No? Come on, you gave me hickeys before, it's no big deal."

"Yeah, but … not like that. I wouldn't want to hurt you like that."

"So it did hurt?! Why didn't you –"

"Stop it. You know what I mean."

She wanted to protest, but then gave in again. He was right. It wasn't a big deal. Not as such.

And yet, on the other hand, it was.

.

.

She had said the L-word. Well, not quite, not the capital L-word, just the small l and as part of another word only, but still. She could have used another word, why had she chosen this one? Did she love him already? Did she want to love him?

Maybe it was the book's fault. Or maybe watching the antics of Rachel and Phoebe, the former dancing around with Danny, neither giving the other even an inch of advantage, the latter forever gushing with admiration for Gary who kept shutting down restaurants all over the village just to impress her. Well, if it ensured that their dinner was safe to eat, and that Rachel was too distracted to spy after her secret boyfriend, that was all to the good.

But love? She had wanted that all her life, had worked for it, given it all she had, never giving up hope. But now? It would be so easy to give in, pretend that it was so and blind herself to the consequences. So easy. Too easy. It was no use, she had to be sure and until she could be sure, she had to give it more time.

And right now she had the time. She was fine with things as they were. In fact it couldn't be better. Chandler wanted her, needed her, desired her, didn't mind her biting him, was in fact even proud to bear her mark. There had been that moment when she'd said the L-word. Maybe it would trigger something in him in turn, cause him to let something slip himself. She just had to give him time. Just a little more time.

.

.

She only saw Chandler again at Danny's housewarming party just after the devious Yeti had deftly countered Rachel's elaborate Regatta gala ploy with his ungainly friend and they both needed a drink. As it turned out so did Chandler, after their unsuccessful attempt to get rid of Ross by getting him a new apartment.

"It would have worked too" he said bitterly. "You should have seen it! I mean, kitchen-slash-bathroom? How often do you get that? And it was just as much space that he has at our place right now. Well, maybe a tad less."

"So why didn't he take it?"

His shoulders slumped. "I know. I couldn't go through with it. I mean, we really couldn't take it anymore, what with the air-purifier and all, but it's Ross. Ross! He's our friend. We can't let him hang out to dry, not even in a kitchen-slash-bathroom place. We'll work it out somehow. Besides, Joey built a fort out of those cartons. We'll have so much fun!"

"Uh-hu, I can see that." She looked around them to check where the rest of her gang was. Rachel was busy talking to Ross who probably told her all about his unsuccessful application for the kitchen-slash-bathroom place and Joey was busy grabbing food from the buffet and flirting with a friend of Danny's simultaneously. Then she looked back at Chandler, slightly jerking her head into the direction of the stairs and matching his grin. Without further ado they headed in the direction of the stairs, slaloming their way around the party guests and neighbors and holding hands all the while as unobtrusively as possible.

"Would you like to see the fort?" he asked when they had arrived on the fifth floor and winked.

"Tempting, but I think I'll pass. For now." She put her arms around him. "It'll be around for a while yet, won't it?"

Chandler sighed deeply. "You could be right there."


	13. Fort Fun

Unfortunately the mark of Monica's teeth on his shoulder faded much too quickly. He would have loved to keep it for a while longer, bear it like a trophy to gloat over proudly whenever he wanted, to look at it and touch it every now and then, gently stroke across it with the tip of his finger. For the first 24 hours after Monica had given it to him he could actually feel the tiny indentations in his skin whenever he touched the place, and watch it in the mirror changing color from an angry red at first to dark read and then light purple as it started to fade again. He almost wished she had broken the skin after all. It would have hurt more, true, but would have taken so much longer to heal. Maybe he would even have kept a scar. A permanent remembrance of her love-bite. That would have been so cool.

Maybe he should get a tattoo of it? But that would probably just look weird and definitely freak Monica out. She had freaked out enough already over the fact that she had bitten him and moreover called it a love-bite of all things. That had admittedly freaked him a little too, but also given him a tremendous boost. That during their lovemaking he had gotten her wild enough to bite him in the first place was exhilarating and amazing in itself, but to hear it from her that the bite was from love was just – awesome. Maybe even a little scary too. They were not ready to talk about love yet. At least he had thought so and he was pretty sure she thought so too, had seen it in her eyes when she realized what effect that word had on him. It was still too early for love. Way too early. They had so much already – great understanding, lots and lots of fun, genuine affection, wonderful friendship, camaraderie and simply amazing, thrilling, mindnumbing sex. Love and everything that it entailed could wait.

But he sure loved the bite-mark. Maybe he could get her to give him another someday.

His preoccupation with the mark did help or at least comfort him a little in the first days of Ross living in their apartment. Ross with all his cartons, his restlessness, his long showers, his annoying air-purifier and most of all his endless energy and total inability to leave him and Joey in peace. That he should have to endure that all over again when he had thought he had left it behind him for good after finishing college and just when he had gotten Joey to respect his privacy most of the time was really enervating enough. That it had also gotten almost impossible for him and Monica now to keep up that nice routine they just had established was surely enough to drive a man to drink. All through that first week he kept cursing his softheartedness that had stopped him from letting Ross move to that doghouse of an apartment several times. Every day.

Then things started to improve. He slowly got a feel for Ross' hours, his sleep cycles – still woefully short – and his work schedule and how to get around all that and even put things to good use that had formerly been more of a hindrance. His sawn-through door for instance, after the third attempt to sneak out of his room at night had failed he figured out a way to soundlessly open the lower half of the door only, first just a crack to allow him to check on Ross, and then far enough for him to creep out on hands and knees and sneak out of the apartment. And the cursed air-purifier actually helped masking what little sound he still made. The first time he succeeded in his quest however he had been so careless in his glee that he forgot to check for sounds at the # 20 door first and came upon Rachel who had still been up watching the Late Late Show. Fortunately she had just assumed he was on a fridge raid and let him get away with a Yoohoo bottle he didn't really need. Then he had to wait for a good quarter hour in the hallway until she had at last turned in. Monica had been fast asleep by then and when he finally got her awake had bitterly complained about his half-frozen feet.

After that things went pretty well for a while. Then the weekend came, the one which completed their ninth week together (nine weeks!) and went by again without offering them a single chance to get together, let alone have at least a few minutes to themselves. It had rained pretty much the whole time, Joey for once had no date, Phoebe had ditched her health inspector again after he had shut down one restaurant too many, and Rachel had been at a loose end since Danny had gone fishing over the weekend. On top of that there was nothing interesting in the movies and so the whole gang had just hung out at Monica's or Central Perk practically all the whole time, drinking coffee, and watching TV or playing games. By Sunday evening he felt ready to explode.

Then Joey had invited them all over to play with the fort and he had managed to hold Monica back just in time, waiting until the others had left.

"Chandler! I want to see it too!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll give you a private tour. But first – mmmph… um, mmmh … what about tonight?"

"You want to show me the fort tonight? But it'll be dark and Ross'll be there …" When he gaped at her and groaned she laughed and cuffed him. "Sorry. About tonight, no, I don't think it'll work. Rachel's going to stay up late, she always does on Sundays."

"Yeah, I know, Ross too. He's got an early day tomorrow – oh, wait a minute …"

Her eyes sparkled. "Tomorrow's my last free Monday too. Any suggestions?"

He grinned, his mind already racing with plans and scenarios. "Leave it to me. As soon as Rachel's left for work, we'll have a day of fun at the fort."

"A whole day? At the fort? Really? What about Joey?"

"You have me, what do you want him for?"

.

It was more work than he had thought, but in the end he managed it all – phoning in sick, getting rid of Joey and adding some things to the fort he thought they would need, like more pillows. Getting Joey to forfeit his Monday sleep-in was the hardest of all and it wasn't until he had promised him a whole evening of foosball and Die Hard bingeing that Joey finally agreed to spend the day at his parents'. And then he was alone. At last.

The birds were shut securely in Joey's room, with enough feed and water to last them a week – check. Candles – check. There were enough rugs, pillows and towels in the fort – check. Also condoms, though they wouldn't need them until later in the week – check. Champagne in the ice bucket and glasses – check. The fridge was stocked with snacks, ice, white wine and more champagne – check.

When he was satisfied that all was ready he went over to # 20 to get Monica. The kitchen was empty however and so was the living room. Her bedroom door was shut, so he knocked.

"Anybody need a ride to Fort Fun?"

"Yes, all ready for you …!"

He opened the door and stopped dead on the threshold, gaping and drinking in the sight of her. She was sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up, wearing a white and red negligee he hadn't yet seen and that seemed to be made up almost entirely of laces and embroidery in the form of petals and flowers in all strategic places and nothing much else. Now she held out her arms to him and laughed when he started to pant with his tongue hanging out. At last he shook off his paralysis and almost flew to the bed, gathering her to him while she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him.

"If that's not the right outfit for our day of fun, I can change into something else …"

"Umm – ohhhm – mmyymmm – mgommd - -"

"Well, is it?"

"OH-OHMMM MMYYMM GGOMMMD!"

"Um, mind the garter – oh, oh god, mmmh ..."

He gently pushed her down until she lay on her back and got on the bed to kneel over her, kissing every inch of exposed skin on her neck and cleavage, breathing in her scent until his head was swimming and running his hands over her hips and thighs encased in sheer white stockings that felt incredibly smooth and silky. She drew up his head to kiss him and they made the kiss last, letting their tongues rub against and play with each other, drawing it out until they ran out of air. After he had released her mouth they stared at each other, their eyes only a few inches apart. Monica's pupils had dilated until her eyes seemed almost black and there were hectic red spots on her cheeks. He kissed her on her cheekbones and jawline just under her ear and then on her chin and throat where her pulse hammered under the skin, feeling her muscles twist and contract under his lips as she swallowed and clenched her teeth. She gripped his shoulders and arched her back under him, then started to push his sweater vest off his shoulders and unbutton his shirt. As he fought his way out of the sleeves she slid her hands over his chest, running her fingers through his chest hair and teasing his nipples. Then he caught her looking at his shoulder where the love-bite had almost vanished completely.

"It's almost gone. Care to freshen it up a little?"

Her eyes widened at that. "What? No!"

"Aw. Why not?"

"Eww! I can't bite you, it was an accident!"

"I know. Seriously though, it kinda – grew on me."

She screwed up her face and shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry, but I can't – I can't bite you again. That's – just sick. Besides you've already got a scar from me. That's enough!"

"A scar? From you? Where? You mean this?"

Her gaze flickered across his face to where he was pointing on his forehead and she swallowed. "Um, yes, that was me, wasn't it?"

"I don't think so. It was at Pictionary, wasn't it? I hit the table when I fell off the couch."

"When I pushed you off the couch."

"I should have worn a helmet then! Anyway, it's not the same, that happened before we got – before London."

She looked at him uncertainly and at last smiled, drew his head down and brushed her lips across his forehead. "But it's quite enough for me. Really."

"Alright. Mmmmh … okay … um, oh … does that open in front ...? No, let me … mmm …" When her bra popped open he cupped and massaged her breasts and started to lick her nipples, until her hands clenched on his upper arm and –

"Ooouuuch …!"

"OH no – oh god … I'm sorry, I forgot to cut my nails …"

"It's okay … no blood. Not even a scratch. I think you're losing your touch."

"Really? Oh thank god." She checked the place again and then kissed it, touching it briefly with the tip of her tongue. "There, is that better?"

"Yeah. For now. Although … could you do it here too … and here …?"

She did and then they kissed again hungrily, and she started to fumble at his pants, teasing open the button and sliding down the zipper. He kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his pants and boxers while she pushed them down his thighs. Then she raised her hips a little so he could take off her thong for her, sliding it over her knees while he pushed his head between her thighs and applied his tongue, cupping and cradling her buttocks in his hands to hold her against him. Dimly he felt her nails raking across into his back as she squirmed and screamed and his only regret was that those scratches were not as easy to look at as the love-bite. Then she was ready for him, drawing him up screaming and squirming, and grabbing him and taking him inside while he groaned and thrust, shutting out everything around him and losing himself in her.

Afterwards he lay on his back beside her, eyes closed, still breathing hard and sweating, feeling utterly drained. When Monica beside him got up on one elbow and slid her hand across his chest he groaned and managed to open one eye halfway.

"Oh god, woman, you really did it this time. I'm done for. Finished. Just let me die in peace."

She laughed and bent over him to kiss him lingeringly on the mouth, then sat up again just as the first signs of life returned to him, and started to take off the sexy lingerie – what was left of it.

"Aw … what are you doing? Can't you leave it on?"

"Na, it's too sweaty now. I'll put it on again later. It's not really suitable for the fort anyway, is it?"

"The fort? Oh – right, the fort. Totally forgot about it. And you're wrong, that thing is very suitable for the fort. In fact, I think it's mandatory."

"Really?" Naked now she slid from the bed and picked up his shirt. "How about this?"

"Whoa, that's my shir-– oh my god. That's … that's just –"

It almost hung to her knees. The way it clung to her legs and her breasts showed between the buttons made her look incredibly hot. Chandler found himself almost drooling. Slowly he slid from the bed, angling for his boxers and putting them on without taking his eyes from her, then he crawled over to her on his hands and knees and pushed his head up against her thighs under the shirt. Monica giggled and wrapped her arms around him, and then squealed when he withdrew his head and got to his feet bearing her up with him. Panting he carried her to the door, waited until she opened it and then brought her across the living room and kitchen to the apartment door.

"Chandler! What if there's someone in the hallway?"

Grudgingly he let her check, but there was nobody. The whole building seemed deserted which was all to the good. Without letting her down he carried her into #19, kicking the door shut behind them, and at last set her down by the fort. On their knees they kissed and pressed against each other, then Monica let go and turned around to crawl into the fort through the entrance hole between the two barcaloungers. Chandler followed her and nearly upset the carton across the armrests when he tried to grope her. Then they were inside and he drew her against him, still on his knees, kissing and fondling her breasts through the shirt as she sat astride his legs. For a while they just remained like that, clutching each other and kissing deeply. At last he lowered her down on the pillows and, propping himself up over her, just stared at her, drinking her in.

"It's really nice in here … Will you keep it like that?"

"Huh? Um, no, Joey wants his chair back … Shoot, I totally forgot!"

"What? Oh, wow, candles!"

He had put a couple on the uppermost cartons and the TV and one on the air purifier he had turned on its side to serve as a makeshift table in a corner of the fort, and now proceeded to light them. Monica oohed and aahhd duly over them and started to investigate further.

"Oooh, champagne! And glasses! You really thought of everything!"

After he managed to pop the cork – which did bounce against the carton with Ross's kitchen stuff, but caused no damage – he poured and they clinked.

"Nine weeks, baby!" he said and her gaze softened. "Nine weeks on London time …"

"Yeah, it's … I can't believe it."

"Nine weeks of doing it!" he enthused and winced when she glared at him. "No? Nine weeks of unbelievable hotness?" He scooted closer and brushed his lips across her throat. "Nine weeks of the best times ever? The best of everything?" Now his lips almost touched hers. "The best nine weeks of my li- mmmh, mmmh –"

"Mmmh – oh god, mind that glass -!"

"Oh shoot. Got it. Did any of that get in there?"

"Um … I don't know. Want to check if it still works?"

"That thing? No thanks. I'll find out soon enough. Now where were we?"

.

.

When he did, it was even more spectacular than he had dared to hope.

"AW, WHAT NOW? I WAS WATCHING THAT!"

"Oh no, no, no, no …!"

"What happened?! Ugh, what's that stink?!"

"My air purifier! It blew a fuse!"

"Is it broke? THANK GOD!"

"HEY!"


	14. The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past

It was too early, way too early, but already Monica couldn't help feeling that this year's Thanksgiving was shaping up pretty well, considering how disastrous the past Thanksgivings she'd hosted had ended up. No, not just the Thanksgivings she had hosted, there were others that had been really bad. But ever since she had decided to host Thanksgiving dinner in her apartment for just the gang and occasional guests, something had gone wrong at all of them. Last year Chandler had had to sit in a box the whole time, she had gotten ice in her eye and flirted with Richard's son. Ugh, the horror of that kiss, that moment when she realized that this was not only Richard's son, but somehow another version of him, younger but otherwise exactly the same. He had even smelt almost the same. Worst of all was the expression on his face when he let her go and more or less ran out of the apartment … That memory still stung. Just like all the other memories, that crazy football game when she and Ross had spent three hours lying over that ball, in the snow and the dark, neither of them wanting to let go, almost catching pneumonia. The year before that she had upset all of their stomachs because a piece of leftover mockolate she had thought had been thrown away had somehow gotten into the chocolate dessert. And last but not least the disaster of the very first Thanksgiving dinner she had hosted in this apartment which had burnt up – turkey, sauce and all three kinds of potatoes – so they had to make do with Chandler's ersatz Thanksgiving dinner. After she had calmed down again that was. The memory of that hysterical outburst still scared her. They'd had to force her on her couch and hold her down for twenty minutes before she'd finally stopped screaming. And squeaking.

Maybe this year would be different? Peaceful, happy, cheerful, maybe boring too, but in a good way? Or was that really too much to ask?

So far it seemed like it wasn't. There were no guests to disrupt their comfortable companionship. She had managed to get all the dishes right, and there had been no complaints whatsoever, not even about the potatoes. On the contrary, everybody, including Chandler, though he had gotten his Non-Thanksgiving-dinner again, had stuffed themselves to bursting point, and she had enough left over for the Thanksgiving sandwiches Ross liked so much. Everybody was content, and lethargic with digesting, and at peace with the world. Chandler was sitting next to her, still at a cautious distance, but doing his best to inch closer and closer. Now he put his arm oh so casually on the backrest of the couch so his hand came to lie just over her head. Not much longer and he would be able to let that arm slide down to her shoulder and/or touch her hand with his without anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary, and she could hardly wait. Last night he had sneaked over even though she hadn't expected him to and given her his Special Patented Period Tummy Rub while they had spooned until she had fallen asleep, and she still got goosebumps every time she thought about it. She didn't need to work until Sunday, and as soon as Rachel launched her yearly Black Friday Shopping Expedition she and Chandler could spend the day together to their hearts' content. It was almost too good to be true. And definitely something to be truly thankful for, even more than for thongs and fall breezes.

But of course Ross wouldn't see it that way, and as soon as he made his statement about this being the worst Thanksgiving ever (though how could it be the worst when everything bad had already happened?) Chandler had to dish out his ancient, outworn Thanksgiving horror story once more. The one about the Thanksgiving after which everything in his life had taken a turn for the worse according to him. The one he told every blessed Thanksgiving about the very one that had forever spoilt the festival for him, and which had actually been the first of a series of Thanksgiving disasters in a row. The one that started it. Yes, he truly was the king of bad Thanksgivings.

As he laid out the story for them once more, how his mother had calmly confronted him with the news that she and his father were getting divorced – over the very houseboy who was just in that moment offering him the plate with turkey, with a grin and a wink – Monica found herself wondering what Chandler had been like at that age. Probably quite skinny, with a shock of thick straight hair and an expression of wide-eyed innocence most of the time. She made a mental note to ask him if he had any photos of himself as a kid, she would love to look at them. Only then he would want to look at some of her photos and she couldn't have that. Pity though.

Then he was done and as every year she started to silently and fervently hope and pray that nobody would bring up the one – or rather two – particular horrid Thanksgivings of the past. Both the first one where she and Chandler had actually met for the first time and which marked the beginning of her life change, the gradual loss of her childhood with each pound of weight she took off until the second one where the last remnants of all those rose-tinted childhood fantasies of a make-belief world that she had desperately clutched at though they had long since proven false and worse, even laughable, had been brutally severed. Like Chandler's toe and just as irretrievable. The two Thanksgivings which bracketed the year she had actually hated Chandler. The repercussions of that year of hate still continued to haunt her, now more than ever before, as much – or even more – than his childhood memory still haunted him. Like a ghost. The Ghost of Thanksgiving Past.

Now Phoebe countered Chandler's story with a lurid and very bloody account of how she bled to death from a cannon ball hit when she was a nurse in the Civil War tending a wounded soldier, and just when Monica started to hope again, Rachel had to put in her two cents.

"I know Monica's worst Thanksgiving."

Oh no, oh no, oh no, she's going to tell it, she's going to tell it, I know she will …

"Oh, let's not tell this story" she pleaded, but of course now everybody clamored for it. Phoebe got ahead of herself as usual and to her quiet relief brought up the wrong story - though come to think of it, that particular Thanksgiving six years ago had been quite awful too in its own way.

"Oh no, I know! I know! It's the one where Joey got Monica's turkey stuck on his head!"

"What?! Joey got a turkey stuck on his head?!"

"Hey, it's not like it sounds." Joey protested lamely.

"It's **exactly** like it sounds." Chandler commented dryly. And he was right. There had been a turkey on Joey's head. A real turkey moreover, not that plastic one he got later and which she had confiscated when he'd tried the same trick on her the next year. When she had found him in her apartment with the very turkey she wanted to stuff and baste for her parents' Thanksgiving dinner stuck firmly on his head she had nearly flipped. What if some of his hair was left inside and would be found by one of the guests, or worse, her mother? And then they hadn't gotten the turkey off in the first place, even when Chandler pitched in, and in the end she had to cut it open a bit, with Joey howling every time he thought she came too close to nicking his skin. Or cutting his throat as he saw it.

And he had not succeeded in scaring Chandler. Only in nearly making him throw up. Her too.

"Right, that's it. That's my worst Thanksgiving." Please, please, please let that be it. Oh please – but no. It wasn't meant to be.

"Oh wait! That can't be the one Rachel's talking about. She didn't even know that happened. So which one was it?"

No. No. Please no … "Umm, I-I really don't want to tell this story."

But it was no use, even Chandler started to beg for the story. Why, oh why?

"Oh, come on Monica, reliving past pain and getting depressed is what Thanksgiving is all about. You know, for me anyway. And of course, the Indians …"

She put a hand on his arm to give weight to her statement while she looked him in the eyes. "Look, of all people, YOU do not want me to tell this story!" Please let him understand, please … But no.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

And she remembered, as Rachel began to tell the story and coaxed her into adding to it, if only just to get the facts right.

_Thanksgiving 1987_

_She was seventeen. She was going to graduate from high school next year and she was happy about that, as happy as she was about everything in her life. She had to be, it was the thing to do. You could not let bad things drag you down. You had to look forward. So no matter what happened, she kept bouncing back. Yes, she still didn't know yet what she wanted to do with her life, yes, she couldn't do anything right for her mother, yes, her father treated her like a baby all the time, yes, her best friend Rachel kept patronizing her, and yes, alright already, she __**was**__ a little overweight. A lot actually. Somehow the weight continued to creep up on her, adding layer upon layer of fat despite everything she did to get rid of it. A few years ago she had still been strong with it, been able to run and dance, but lately she kept getting tired and short of breath at increasingly shorter intervals. But she would beat it. Soon. She could do, it was no big deal. Of course it would be hard now, with Christmas season starting and all that wonderful holiday food and the sweets and the treats … Almost impossible. But definitely in the New Year. It was her resolution in fact. Next year she would lose all the weight, and get strong, get able to breathe properly again, maybe even get beautiful so when she met her prince they would fall in love at first sight and be happy forever after. Still, all that could wait until the New Year. _

_And as a first step she had already switched to Diet Coke. That had to count for something._

_Here was Rachel, still her best friend, the one she could tell everything, share anything, even though it often seemed to her that they were starting to drift apart. They were only a month apart, but lately Rachel had been getting ahead of her, going where she couldn't follow – and didn't want to yet. She had a boyfriend – and not just any boy, but Chip Matthews, he with the cool chopper she secretly called 'chipper' - and she was even going to have sex with him. Or if they did break up – you never knew really with Rachel and her boyfriends - then with the next guy who was surely already standing in line for her. While Monica couldn't picture that for herself at all, she was all for it, since it meant that she would learn firsthand from Rachel what it all was about, if it really was so special. Of course it would be different for her though. Her first time was going to be very very special. Like something out of a book. Something worth waiting for. Like her prince. No matter what Rachel said, it was going to be like that. She only had to believe._

_And then Ross finally arrived and yes, he had brought his roommate with him as he'd promised. Everything he had told them about him had made her more and more curious, until she could hardly wait to meet him and see if he really was that cool and great. Maybe she would like him too? Maybe he would even like her? Or maybe – it was unlikely, totally unrealistic, crazy even, but maybe he would be the one?_

_And her first impression of him was definitely positive. He really was good looking. That crazy Flock-of-Seagull hairstyle did actually make him look cool, as did the light grey blazer and the way he grinned when Ross introduced him. _

_._

Beside her Chandler wrapped his arms around his head and groaned deeply while Joey smirked gleefully.

"Flock-of-Seagulls? And Mr Kotter? You guys were soo lame!"

"He was crazy about Wham too" Ross threw in and Chandler shot him a dirty look.

"You got me onto them!"

"Guys, cut it out, I want to hear the story!"

Monica sighed.

.

"_Uh, everyone, this is Chandler! My roommate and lead singer of our band!"_

.

"Band? What Band?"

"SHUT UP JOEY!"

_._

_What a cool name too. Yes, he was yummy! And such nice blue eyes. When Ross, after some prodding, finally introduced her and they shook, she gave him her best smile._

"_Hi, I'm Ross's little sister."_

_His eyebrows went up at that and he actually laughed. __**"**__Okay." _

_Alright, so maybe 'little' had not been quite the right word … And now of course her mother had to sweep in and spoil her chance for improving that first impression. Her mother who was so elegant and self-assured, so oblivious of everything except Ross … and so thin._

"_I'm so glad you could come Chandler, we've got plenty of food so I hope you're hungry."_

"_Oh, mom. Mom. Chandler hates Thanksgiving and doesn't eat any Thanksgiving food."_

"_Oh, well, I'm so glad you brought him here then." Her mother immediately lost interest, but Monica suddenly saw her chance. Among many other things Ross had mentioned Chandler's favorite food and as it happened she knew quite well how to make it. As Nana kept telling her, the way to a man's heart led through his stomach, so maybe this would work?_

"_Umm, Chandler, if you want I can make you some macaroni and cheese for dinner." _

_There was that cute grin again and this time she got the full blast of it. "__Well, as long as the pilgrims didn't eat it, I'm in."_

_That lightning quick repartee took her totally by surprise and of course she quite forgot to swallow the mouthful of diet coke and almost choked as she tried to laugh, and even worse, sprayed coke out of her nose. Unable to face him any longer she turned and ran to the kitchen. Another chance lost. But no matter. She had to look forward. _

_Hearing Ross getting blown off by Rachel (and teased by Chandler too – what in the world had made him so sarcastic?) made her feel better and she started to prepare the macaroni and cheese, determined that this time she would get it right. Rachel venting off about Nancy Branson and Ross clumsy efforts to impress her helped even more. _

_Finally there was a success for her. Chandler, who had actually started to look quite sick when her father cut up the turkey, ate everything she had made for him, down to the last cheese crumb. _

_._

"You made me Mac &amp; Cheese?!"

"Yes, don't you remember?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Not really. Did I at least thank you?"

"Yes. That you actually did."

.

_Watching him eat it made her feel proud of herself, the way nothing else had before. It gave her the courage to plop down on the sofa next to him when no one paid attention to them (and ignore the way the sofa bounced up at his end and nearly made him spill his pie) and give it another try._

"_Hey Chandler! Did you like the macaroni and cheese?"_

"_Oh yeah, it was great. You should be a chef."_

_Just like that. Of course she should be. Now that he'd said it, she was wondering why that hadn't occurred to her before. It was so obvious._

"_Okay!" _

.

"Whoa! You mean, I actually gave you this idea? I thought you always wanted to be a chef!"

"Yes you did, and no I didn't."

"Come on, could you discuss that later –"

"Alright already!"

_._

_She was immediately happy again, even though he got up rather abruptly and left. A chef, she would be a chef! She would go to culinary school and get a degree, get a job at a nice restaurant, cook the most wonderful dishes, make all the critics rave and the guests flock to her table, she would be famous and earn big money, make her parents proud and Ross so envious when they for once cared more about her than for him. And if she was a chef, it wouldn't matter anymore that she was overweight, maybe it would even be required of her … And Rachel was happy again too, since Chip had decided to undump her again, and moreover promised to tell her everything, just as she'd hoped. It was the icing on her cake of happiness, almost too much for one day, but maybe it still had something more for her in store? She saw that Ross had started to do the dishes with Chandler, even though he hated to do that, maybe, just maybe he would let her do them in his place instead if she offered? Then she could talk some more with him, maybe get him to tell one more joke … But when she came to the kitchen door she couldn't help overhearing as they talked and just had to listen, since Ross was once again his usual delusional self and she couldn't stop looking at Chandler._

"_So I'm thinking about asking Rachel out tonight. You know maybe play her that song we wrote last week."_

_Yeah, dream on, loser._

"_Emotional Knapsack? Right on!" _

_._

Joey nearly fell of the ottoman at that, howling with laughter, while the others frantically tried to shush him.

.

"_Oh! Uh, but, don't take too long okay? 'Cause uh, we're gonna test out our fake ID's tonight, right, Clifford Alverez ...!"_

_Now there was useful information …_

"_Listen, Roland Chang, if things go well, I'm gonna be out with her all night."_

"_Dude, don't do that to me!"_

"_All right, it's cool, you can stay here. My parents won't mind."_

_Oh my god, she could be alone with Chandler! She could cook some more for him, talk to him, get to know him better … _

"_No, it's not that, I just don't want to be stuck here all night with your fat sister."_

_It was like a slap in the face. Like a splash of ice-cold water. A wake-up call like a blaring siren that shattered her stupid naïve childish dreambubble world and let her see herself in the glaring, unforgiving mirror of reality. _

_And it was all Chandler's fault. Damn him and his stupid haircut and his stupid jokes, damn all of him. She hated him, she hated him. If only she could get back at him, show him – _

_But here was her mother with the unfinished pies._

"_Monica, why don't you finish off these pies? I don't have any more room left in the fridge."_

_At any other time there would have been no question about it. She would have finished the pies and all the other leftovers too, if not still that night, then on the next day, until the next meal and leftovers and desserts and sweets and the next and the next …_

_For a long moment she was actually tempted. Some habits were hard to break. Almost impossible. It would be so easy. Stuff herself until that hurtful, hateful, sniding (and true, so true …) remark was forgotten. Buried under the food. Like so many other things. Covered up and pushed away, until it was like it had never been said in the first place. _

_But how would she be able to get back at him then? If she didn't, that words would continue to haunt her, sting her, follow her into her dreams, ruin her happiness for good. If she did not get back at him, she would never be happy again._

_So she pushed the plates away, firmly stamping down on her lingering regret._

"_No. No, thank you!" _

_As she stormed off to her room, she just caught her father's dry comment: _

"_Well Judy, you did it! She's __**finally**__ full!"_

_._

Monica emerged from her memories still shaken and teeth clenched, to find Chandler staring at her open-mouthed in dismay.

"I called you fat?! I don't even remember that!"

Great. Now he felt guilty. Now he apologized. More than ten years later, when all chances to undo the damage had long since passed. And she no longer wanted him to feel guilty. Quite the contrary.

"Maybe it'd jog your memory if you guys play a little bit of _Emotional Knapsack_." Joey's joking couldn't distract her, more the pity.

"Well, I do." But the memory didn't hurt any more, or at least not as much as it had before. Who would have thought what a great remedy guilt was for wounded feelings?

And Chandler still kept apologizing. If only she could shut him up, before the other Thanksgiving came up, the one that was the real disaster for both of them, the one he mustn't be reminded of, at all costs … But no. Oh god no, here was Rachel, damn her, of course it had to be her …

"Actually, you know that's not the Thanksgiving I was talking about."

"Yes, it was!"

"No, it wasn't. It was actually the …"

No, please god no, it'll kill him, he would never forgive her for that …

"Okay, now Thanksgiving's over, let's get ready for Christmas. Who wants to go get a Christmas tree?!" Were they actually on sale already? Who cared!

"Oh, no, I have the cutest Christmas story!" Bless Phoebe, but it was no use, she could already tell. And now Chandler clamored for the story too. How, how, how could he not remember? Had that shock been so severe he had pushed it away into his subconscious?

Whatever, it would come out now.

_Thanksgiving 1988_

_It had been hard. Very hard. Especially at the beginning, as she had foreseen with the Christmas season coming up. When Ross invited her to the college party a week before the Christmas vacation, she had only lost four pounds so far and still wasn't able to resist pizza. But seeing Chandler again and noticing his total disinterest in her gave her another boost. That and the humiliation when she couldn't get out of the bean bag chair. And not to forget her first kiss later that night, from the Midnight Mystery Kisser, whoever that had been. It was the kiss that counted._

_And after Halloween she was thin. Really thin. Maybe not quite as thin as her mother, but as slender and slim as Rachel so that now they were not only the same age but also the same size. They could now take turns with their dresses and save money that way. And while they were still some things where she would never be able to agree with Rachel (like all that stupid sex business), she still felt they had come a little closer again. Even though Rachel had gotten a nose job that augmented her looks from merely quite pretty to rather awesome, she still felt more equal with her. Just before Thanksgiving they went shopping together and she bought THE DRESS. A long, clinging, low-cut, shoulder-free dress, that brought out her newly achieved figure to her best advantage. The dress she would wear when she got her revenge. That dress that would make Chandler swoon and stare and drool, reduce him to stuttering or even open-mouthed silence. Would actually make him shut up, and then she would laugh and make fun of him for a change. He would be totally humiliated, completely unable to shake off her spell and she would ignore it when he tried to flirt with her, laugh at his feeble efforts, leave him standing, a sad loser forever._

_Thanksgiving came at last and she was waiting at the stairs for Ross and Chandler to arrive. She heard them come in and then caught a glimpse of them and nearly gave herself away with laughter when she saw that Chandler had discarded his Flock-of-Seagulls style and was now trying to pull off Sonny Crockett, wicker shoes and three-day growth and all. God, he was so lame, what could she possibly have seen in him? _

_And then her mother called for her. That was her cue. Now she would get her revenge. _

_She slowly went down the stairs and turned the corner, taking care to step in her new high heels just as Rachel had taught her, holding up her skirt to make her hips sway seductively as she walked right into his open-mouthed bulging eyes stare._

"_Hi, Chandler."_

"_Oh my God!" He wasn't quite struck dumb, but close. Point for her. And yes, drooling too – another point. _

"_What's the matter?" she asked innocently. "Is there, is there something on my dress?" She turned around so he could get a good look at her ass too. Her all new small and shapely ass._

"_You just, you look so different! Terrific! That dress! That body!" Stammering now. Third point. _

"_Dude!" "Sorry!"_

_Caught out in front of Ross too. Ah revenge was so sweet …_

_And then her mother butted in and it was over. Much too soon. Had she really waited a whole year for this? To get back at him for just five seconds and then to have Ross steal her thunder just because he had a girlfriend now? What was so special about that? _

_She made one last effort to taunt him, but her heart wasn't really in it anymore. Still, she liked it when he stared after her with such naked admiration her father felt compelled to warn him. But then in the kitchen she realized that it was over. And that it hadn't been enough. Not nearly. It needed more to let her find her peace again. A lot more. As she explained to Rachel, she hadn't really got him back. He had not been humiliated, not as much as she needed him to be._

_And then Rachel came up with this plan. The plan that was so tempting, that felt so right at that time. The plan that led to the final disaster. _

_If only she had paid a little more attention when Rachel demonstrated how she had to act to seduce him. If only she hadn't made it look so easy. If only she hadn't believed in her new self so blindly. If only there had been a little more time to prepare. If only he had been able to stay away from her a little longer. If only she hadn't been quite so bloodthirsty eager to get on with it, then maybe this could have been averted … but it hadn't._

_Instead he had come into the kitchen, under the pretense of asking her for another macaroni and cheese, but really of course for what she would have only been too glad to give him a year ago. If she had paid more attention and not let her wounded pride and stubbornness blind her, she could have seen through that stupid Miami Vice façade and realized that he was as vulnerable and insecure as she, thin or not. She had gotten thin, but she hadn't really changed. Deep inside she still was the fat little girl that believed in happiness. And bore terrible grudges when she for once couldn't ignore a bad thing. And couldn't get enough, always wanted everything to happen at once._

_If only he had taken his hands out of his pants pockets. Now in hindsight, she knew that it was a long ingrained habit, that he just didn't know what to do with his hands, but then the way he stood there looking at her rather confused and increasingly skeptical the more she tried to seductively rub and press all those things against her, the box and the carrots and finally that big knife, only spurred her on, made her overdo it. Until she had lost control and the knife went flying –_

_As it struck his shoe severing his little toe at the tip, as he clenched his teeth and curled up in pain, as she screamed herself hoarse until the others came running, to get help, call an ambulance, get him to the hospital, as she blindly swept what she tought was the severed piece of bloody toe into a bag with ice and raced after them – only then she realized that she had achieved nothing. That she had still not grown up, only thought she had, that after that shock last year she had remained what she had been all along, never changing on the inside, and lost in a fantasy of hate and revenge. All the weight that she hadn't lost that year._

_._

She was aware that Chandler was staring at her in total shock and couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. As Rachel finished the story, she got up and started clearing the table, just to give herself something to do.

.

"_And even in the ambulance he couldn't stop joking. And he kept asking if we had brought his toe. So then Monica took out this bag with ice and gave it to the doctor and he looked in and said it was just a piece of carrot …"_

"_A very cold piece of carrot. And the toe was still in the kitchen!"_

.

And then Chandler finally found his voice again.

"That's why I lost my toe?! Because I called you fat?!"

"I didn't **mean** to cut it off. It was an accident!" It sounded lame even in her own ears.

"That's why for an entire year people called me Sir Limps-A-Lot?!"

"I'm sorry! It wasn't your whole toe!" What did that change? Nothing. Nothing at all.

"Yeah, well, I miss the tip! It's the best part. It has the nail." And he abruptly turned and headed for the door. Running again. Oh no. She had to stop him, bring him around no matter what. If she lost him now – it didn't bear thinking.

The last thing she heard as she hastened after him was Ross telling Joey that the nickname had been his idea. Figured. Joey was so right, he was a dork.

Chandler was leaning against the doorframe of his apartment, breathing hard and shaking his head disbelievingly. It quite broke her heart to see him like this. It had happened so long ago, why did it still have to hurt so much? Why hadn't that ghost been laid to rest long since?

"Chandler, I said I was sorry …"

"Yeah, well, sorry doesn't bring back the little piggy that cried all the way home!" he snapped and she realized that it actually scared her to see him this upset. "I **hate** this stupid day! And everything about it! I'll see you later." He swung around again to go into the apartment and she reached out and held him back, stroking his arm and shoulder.

"Oh wait, Chandler, come here. Is there anything I can do? Anything?"

For a moment he seemed to waver. Then his shoulders slumped and he turned his back on her.

"Yeah, just leave me alone for a while." That he didn't sound hopping mad anymore, but actually depressed now pained her even more. Curse this stupid day. By now she hated it as much as he did. Oh yeah, if he was the king of bad Thanksgivings, then it only followed that she was now the queen. The queen of bad Thanksgivings, with her crown of – wait a minute. Just wait.

Actually there was something she could do.


	15. The Queen of bad Thanksgivings

Kicking the foosball table only made his foot hurt. Pounding his fist on the kitchen counter only made his hand hurt. Gritting his teeth only made his mouth hurt. He didn't need to do anything to his head, because it already hurt.

Damn this day. Damn this whole rotten day to hell. Thanksgiving? More like Bad Luck Day. Curse Day.

How could he have forgotten the toe incident? And that it had happened on Thanksgiving? And how could he have forgotten that it had been Monica who had been responsible for it? Until now he had always thought it was pure accident, nothing to do with him personally, that he had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – that is at that very moment Ross's little sister had chosen to go a little … well, weird. Over the top actually. Ross's little sister. Not Monica. It wasn't until the story got told that he had suddenly realized that Monica, his girlfriend Monica, and Ross's weird little sister from his college time were one and the same person. He honestly had never really thought about it before. Until now those two persons – the one he vaguely remembered meeting at Ross's parents' at two consecutive Thanksgivings (he had to admit that he remembered next to nothing from the first time) and the other who became his neighbor when the flat opposite hers became free and he, thanks to Ross, could snatch it up before it even got on the market. The person who over 7 years went from being friendly (and hot ...) neighbor to (even hotter) friend, to unbelievable hot lover and eventually girlfriend. Until now he had somehow managed to keep those two persons apart in his head. Probably because he was so used to bad things happening to him at Thanksgiving he had written off that … accident as just another repercussion of that jinxed day. And quite forgotten about it, or pushed the memory away, like so many memories before and after. True, he was reminded of it every time he looked at his foot with the pathetic little stump, but over time he had gotten really good at ignoring it. It had happened, it was over. The missing toe tip had just become one more embarrassing part of him that he kept to himself, like his nubbin before he had had it removed, or his middle name which he still had managed to keep secret.

Until now. Now that cursed day had, true to form, struck once again, when he had least expected it. That Monica, his girlfriend Monica, the woman he was slowly but truly falling for, had not only been responsible for the loss of his toe, but moreover had hated him for over a year, had wanted to humiliate and hurt him, for something he didn't even remember doing, had come as a complete shock. Yes, he supposed he had called her fat. It was something he could have done, given the sort of person he had been at that time, at 19 and finally away from home, fresh into college, starting on a new life full of promise and possibilities and therefore, he supposed, unbearably cocky and arrogant. And delusional. And deep deep inside, insecure, complex laden and terrified. Terrified that someone could find out what a windbag he really was, just a loud mouth and nothing else. That Ross, a fellow loser, had become his first true friend, that he had never managed to have a normal friendship with another guy before, that no one had been able to put up with him that long. That he had never had a girlfriend before, at least not one who had wanted to have sex with him. That he had never had sex. He didn't remember that particular talk with Ross over the dishes where he had called Monica fat, but he thought that that remark had mostly been just showing off, creating a smoke screen. In truth he would have been only too happy to get to know her a little better, maybe even become friendly. If she hadn't been Ross's sister. But how could he risk to be forever ridiculed and made fun of if it came out that he was Ross's fat sister's boyfriend? His situation had been precarious enough without that. And talk linking him to her would eventually lead to other discussions and revelations and then everything would come out … That was how he would have reasoned. Or the reasons he would have acted on, never really thinking about them at all.

But he shouldn't have called her fat, no matter that he hadn't known she would overhear it, no matter that he hadn't meant to hurt her. But then he had never been able to shut up. That she had overheard it was just bad luck. That Thanksgiving kind of bad luck. The bad luck that caused her to take it to heart, more than she should have, that caused her to hate and despise him for a whole year. Had caused her to transform too, from a chubby (fat) bouncy, cheerful, childish, somewhat ridiculous girl to a breathtakingly, unearthly beautiful, hot, amazing, awesome woman in just one year. A woman who turned out to be a bit – alright a lot – weird, but all the same, soooo hot. So hot he hadn't been able to resist, had never even considered resisting. The kind of woman he could never have hope even to have a chance of getting, but had to try for anyway. Yes, even the shock of the accident had never been able to erase that memory of his first glimpse of her after her transformation. It was only now, after the true story had been told, that he realized that she had only changed on the outside. On the inside she had still been that naïve, childish, emotional teenager and what he had thought was being weird or eccentric maybe, had been just clumsiness. And overeagerness for revenge.

If only it had been someone else. Not her. He just couldn't get over the fact that it had been Monica who had done this to him. Even if she hadn't meant it to happen. She didn't know what it meant to live in hope of getting rid of this Thanksgiving curse, only to have it destroyed over and over again. And get hurt in the bargain, physically and, much worse, emotionally. To be forever scarred by it and continue to be scarred.

He was the king of bad Thanksgivings. She would never be the queen of bad Thanksgivings.

He had wanted to shut himself in his room, but suddenly couldn't be bothered anymore and just dropped into the nearest barcalounger, staring at the carpet and brooding. It made his head ache, but then what was one more ache with all the ones that had already accumulated?

He'd had such high hopes of the day before. On the previous evening Joey had dragged Ross away from his laptop and persuaded him to go out with him, probably because he was broke again, and when they hadn't returned after midnight he had decided to sneak over to Monica and surprise her. And surprised her he had indeed. She had been in bed and half asleep already, and when he had gotten on the bed and under the covers, she had been so startled they'd almost bumped their heads against each other.

"Chandler! What are you – ooouumph ... mmh – what are you doing?"

"Trying to get warm -?"

"Oh. Yeah, ouh, you really are cold … But why didn't you stay in your bed?"

"I wanted to see you. Can't I visit my girlfriend if I want to?"

"Of course you can … but we didn't –"

"So it's a surprise visit. Do you want me to leave again?"

"No! Of course not! But …"

"Whose butt?"

"Chandler!" She slapped his hand away, but consented to a kiss and didn't resist when he drew her closer until she lay half over him, and let his hands slide over her back and down her sides. He could tell that she hadn't quite relaxed however, and when he tried to push up her nighty she flinched.

"What?"

"Chandler, we can't – you know I'm –"

"On your period? I know that. It's okay."

"But we can't –"

"I know that too."

"But then why - ?"

"Mon, we've been over that. We don't need to do it all the time."

"We don't?"

"Well, just because we do it all the time doesn't mean we have to. Or that we can't see each other just because we can't do it. I thought we had worked that out already!"

"I know. We had. It's just – that was before Ross moved in and all that … I just thought it was too risky and there was no point if we couldn't have sex –"

"Oh. Well, I thought it was worth the risk." He rolled on his side and rested his hand on her belly. "You've been on your period since Tuesday and I haven't given you my Special Patented Anticramp Period Tummyrub yet."

"Aw. Mmmh. That's true, you haven't. Oh. Mmmh … Oh my god …" At first she had been on her back, and he had kissed her on her throat and shoulders while he stroked and massaged her abdomen, then her nighty had gotten too hot for her and he had helped her to take it off, and helped himself to a few more kisses before she had turned on her side and they had spooned, pressed closely together while he still continued his massage.

"Is that better?"

"Of course. Oh yes. I'm sorry, it was really stupid of me. I shouldn't have – I guess I was nervous because of tomorrow …"

"Tomorrow? Because of Thanksgiving? Why?"

"You ask that? You hate that day. And there's always something that goes wrong. Always."

"Well, yeah, but maybe tomorrow will be an exception. In fact I really think it will be."

"But why should it be?"

"Come on, it's our first Thanksgiving together. No matter what happens, there's always that. Nothing could be so bad that we can't deal with it together."

"You're so right. Nothing can. Mmmmh … nothing …"

But of course he hadn't been right. She had been and he had been wrong. So stupid and so wrong. How could he ever hope to get over this? How could he ever hope that there would be an end to this curse, that he would live to see a Thanksgiving that wasn't bad?

A sound from the kitchen startled him out of his brooding, but it was only the duck coming from behind the kitchen counter and heading for Joey's room, quacking excitedly. If only he could be a duck for a while, living happily from day to day, without a care in the world …

"Oh-oh, I'm a duck! I go 'quack, quack'! I'm happy all the time!"

Of course the duck ignored him. Nobody cared. Nobody gave a damn.

Then there was a knock on the door. For a moment he was sorely tempted to ignore it and just stay put, brood some more, lose himself in his self-pity … Then he got up, almost inspite of himself, sighing deeply. Why couldn't they leave him alone?

When he opened the door, there was Monica.

Monica with her head in a turkey.

Chandler stared, blinked and stared again. Still Monica. With her head in a turkey. In the turkey that the others had just eaten – well no, just as he thought that, he also remembered that fake plastic turkey Joey had gotten to try and scare the girls again with it and that Monica had confiscated, and just about managed to keep his face blank.

"Nice try ..." he said wearily.

But of course Monica could not be dismissed so easily. "Wait, wait, wait!" And she put a Shriner's hat on top of the turkey and then stood at attention, making it look … weirdly funny.

"Look, Monica …" But she was still not done, not by a long way. "Look!"

Big yellow sunglasses went on the bird, and he asked himself how long she had practiced that before a mirror until she got it to look so – happy. Innocently and blissfully happy. As if the Thanksgiving turkey had suddenly decided to get up and go out to have a day of fun on the beach … He felt the laughter trying to bubble up from deep inside him and pushed it back. This was too easy.

"This is not going to work!"

He should have known Monica wouldn't give up that easy. "I bet this will work!"

She stepped forward and started jiggling in place. Wiggling her arms and legs. Swaying her hips. In all honesty he had to admit that he couldn't have done it better. And when she turned around and wagged her sweet little ass at him, still with her head in that ridiculous happy turkey it was too much and he finally cracked up. She was just so perfect. So everything he had ever wanted.

"You are so great! I love you!"

As soon as that had gotten out he froze in shock, hoping against hope that she hadn't heard it inside that thing … But no. Monica stopped dancing and turned around, somehow managing to give the turkeyhead an expression of disbelief.

"What?!"

Oh no, he had said it, the L-word, he had said the L-word …

"Nothing! I said, I said, 'you're so great', and then I just, I just stopped talking!"

"You said you loved me! I can't believe this!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No I didn't!"

"You love me!"

"No I don't! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" He started to jump up and down in his agitation. He hadn't said it, hadn't said it, it didn't count, couldn't count …

They would have gone on endlessly like that, if Joey hadn't suddenly walked in on them. And taken one look at Monica, turned around and ran, screaming at the top of his lungs, completely freaked.

It sobered him as nothing else would have done, and put things into perspective again.

"What was that?" Monica asked, turkey head slightly cocked, which almost had him cracking up again.

"Congratulations, you just freaked out Joey."

"Really?"

"Totally. Now let's get you out of this before you choke."

She caught his hands when he took hold of the turkey to draw it off her head.

"Are we good again?"

"Yes. Yes, we so are."

"Really?"

"Well, I'm not going to kiss you while you're still in that thing, but yes!"

She pushed up the plastic turkey and flung it away, then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her face was sweaty and her hair squashed from the plastic turkey, and a weird smell still clung to her skin from it. As he pressed enthusiastically against her and kissed her as if there was no tomorrow, he suddenly realized that he had been wrong all along. He had thought she couldn't be, but she was. She so was.

The queen of bad Thanksgivings. His queen.

Only when she drew back a little to stare at him he realized that he had said it aloud.

"What?"

"You – um, no, forget it."

"The queen of bad Thanksgivings? I thought that too."

"You did? When?"

"Just now. When I had the idea … with that thing. You're right. That's what I am."

"Because of me." His face fell as he realized something else. "I made you the queen. Every Thanksgiving I took part in has gone bad for you."

"Chandler that's crazy!"

"Is it? Is it really? Think about it, every single Thanksgiving since those two. When I wasn't there, it went okay. When I was – something went wrong."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Your dinner burnt up. Your dessert was spoilt. You fought with Ross. You got ice in your eye …"

"All not your fault!"

"But I was there! Don't you see? I'm the catalyst. Thanksgiving is cursed for me and now it's caught you too."

"That's bullshit. I refuse to believe that. And moreover, I don't care." She had gripped his shoulders and shook him, and somewhere back in his mind he noted once more how surprisingly strong she was for someone that lithe. "Do you hear me? I don't care!" She was breathing harder and he couldn't help notice just how much it got her cleavage heaving under that tight sweater, and then had to almost force his eyes away again to meet her gaze. Now she was pushing her chin forward.

"You said it yourself, nothing could be so bad that we can't deal with it together. Well, it was bad, and we dealt with it and now it's over. Don't you see? Those two Thanksgivings have haunted me all that time. I thought I could never get over them. But now I did! We did! We can go forward now!"

He stared at her openmouthed, for once quite at a loss for words.

"But …"

"Whose butt?!"

He snapped his mouth shut and drew a deep breath.

"Fine. Okay, I believe you. But, does that really mean … that there will be no more bad Thanksgivings? For me? For us?"

She shrugged. "How should I know? Maybe there will. But they can't be as bad as this. Nothing could ever be. Anyway, if something bad happens, we deal with it together."

"If we're toge- right. You're right. Sure we will."

She looked at him steadily, locking his gaze with hers.

"We'll see how it turns out. Who knows? Maybe the curse is broken now. Maybe at the next Thanksgiving you will be the only one to come out ahead. I'm sure it could happen!"

"Yeah. And dead turkeys will fly again … But I see what you mean."

She grinned at him. "Maybe you'll even be able to eat Thanksgiving food again!"

Urgh. Oh god, the very thought … He forced himself not to grimace, but she saw his face work and sighed.

"Or not."


	16. Sex, Lies and (no) Video, part 1

She had done it. She had banished the ghost of that severed toe, that burden she had been dragging around all that time, almost without realizing it anymore. She had gotten Chandler over it too, and to crown it all, he had said the magic words.

Yes he had. He had said 'I love you'.

And yes, she knew he hadn't meant it quite like that. It had been praise not sentiment, and certainly not THAT sentiment. Also he had tried to take it back, quite vehemently even. But still. But still.

It was almost scary, but it really looked like they were getting there, slowly, yes, but so surely. Everything they shared, every crisis they mastered brought them closer to each other, strengthened and stabilized their relationship, their attachment. Brought them closer to love too, though she was still not sure if they would ever really get there. It still seemed so weird to her to go from friendship to love, as if they went at it the other way round, a way completely new to them. The concept was so alien to her. You met, you were attracted to the other, you fell for him and if you were lucky, he for you. And then you built up your relationship from that. But how could you fall for someone you already knew so well, who had been a part of your life for so long? Eleven years, dear god, they had known each other for eleven years already - off and on of course. Actually, after that fateful second Thanksgiving she hadn't seen Chandler again for three years. If poor old Mrs. Puttrell hadn't moved out and her apartment gotten free, it would probably been even longer. She had been very surprised even so when Chandler had snatched at the chance of moving in so avidly. Yes, he had been quite desperate for an apartment in the Village that was reasonably close to work and, for New York, quite reasonable in terms of rent and living costs too, and she knew from Ross too that he felt a bit lonely and out of his depth, fresh out from college and on the brink of a major life change. But when they met again on the day he moved in, the Thanksgiving business somehow never came up, not even when it turned out that he still persisted in his aversion to Thanksgiving food. He seemed to have put it behind him and she was only too glad to keep it that way. In a way it was as if they both started over from scratch, as if living in New York on their own as neighbors somehow meant that the past didn't matter anymore, had become unimportant – almost as if it had happened to different people.

But even if she didn't count those first 4 years, there still remained 7 years of friendship they had to work around. Even though that friendship often proved to be a big help, there were times when she wished they could have gotten together on different terms. She couldn't help but wonder if it would have even worked, if they would have fallen for each other had they met as total strangers now. Would it really have been that different? Would it have been easier or more difficult? Probably more difficult at first - more difficult the more serious they got and their friends' influence would start to make itself more and more felt and they would have to share every little spat, every argument, every little bump of their relationship with them, until their relationship was an accepted fact – and after that easier, hopefully at least. This way it was just the other way round, the secrecy made it easy for them to build up the foundations of their relationship, to work on it until it could safely be called love, until they arrived at that point where there really was no return, no emergency exit. Then the real difficulties would begin, she had no doubts about that.

But for now they still had a long way to go. And she meant to make the best of every single step, enjoy herself as much as she could. She had missed out on so much in the last year, so many things she now had in abundance and still couldn't get enough of. The sex of course, most of all, no matter how often they did it she still seemed to need more. Not just the basic act, but that seemingly insatiable desire that made it so special and essential. Every time she saw the naked hunger in his eyes, when he looked at her with that total awe, completely enthralled, she couldn't get enough of it. And even though she knew that there was no danger of it weakening or diminishing any time soon, she still felt compelled to try to evoke it anew, as if it constantly needed to be tested and challenged. So she kept buying new negligees and hot underwear and seductive scents, and kept thinking up new ways to present herself to him, just to get that look, to see his mouth fall open and his eyes widening to huge glassy orbs as he stared at her, to feel that precious moment of total enchantment.

She couldn't forget how she had gotten that special moment last week, almost by accident when she had just put on his shirt, and she knew she just had to try for it again. Just once. One more time. And that was why she had stolen his underwear.

His emergency underwear to be more exact, the briefs he almost never wore, probably because they had gotten too tight for him. Not for her though, his boxers were too big for her by far, but the tighty-whiteys fitted her, if only just. Or at least stayed up when she put them on and that was all she needed. And since they recently had done laundry – actual laundry instead of just using it as their favorite pretense – there was little danger of him missing it anytime soon. Especially not before she used them, since she meant to do it today.

Today, on Sunday after Thanksgiving, which marked the completion of their tenth week together. Also the day she felt that her period had petered out enough so they could finally have sex again. Actually they had come close to it on Black Friday when they had been able to spend the whole day together, but in the end she hadn't been able to go through with it and he hadn't minded. Not much at least, or so she thought, and of course she had tried to make it up to him. But now she was ready again and she meant to make it special. Very special, even for their standards.

For a while it had looked as if they wouldn't get their alone time anytime soon. Ross, Joey and Phoebe had spent all afternoon and early evening at her place waiting for Rachel whose return flight from her weekend visit in Vail with her father had been delayed. They had wanted a final night out on the town before the end of the long weekend, and only when it became clear that Rachel wouldn't arrive until late in the night, they had finally left without her, not without protest on Ross's part. After he had tried one more time to persuade her and Chandler to come and she had pleaded a sore throat and he an early start on Monday, Joey finally managed to drag him out. As soon as they had left for good, she shut the door and turned the key for safety, heaving a sigh of relief as she went back to the couch, grinning at Chandler, who grinned back, and took up the remote to shut off the TV.

"No, no – leave it on. If Rachel gets in we can pretend that we watched TV all the time."

He frowned slightly. "You mean – here? Since when are we watching TV naked?"

When she got close to him he started to get up and then grinned when she pushed him down again firmly. "No? Then how - mmmmh –" She shut him up with a kiss until he sank back again on the couch and then held herself away a little, smiling seductively.

"No. You don't need to get undressed. Yet. Just stay put. And wait, while I change into something … more comfortable."

She loved how his eyes lit up at that immediately and he settled back again, smiling expectantly, as she turned on the lamp on the side table and went to her bedroom. When she turned out the ceiling light she looked back briefly and saw that he was groping himself already with one hand in his pocket and a dreamy expression on his face. In her bedroom she hurriedly got out of her clothes as fast as she could and then almost jumped into his briefs, marveling at how much the feel of the plain white slightly coarse garment on her skin turned her on already. Belting her black bathrobe loosely around her she went out again, meeting his expectant stare with a slightly nervous smile. He stayed put as she had told him to, waiting until she stood before him, their knees almost touching, and caught his hands in hers when he reached out to draw her close. She guided them to the belt of her bathrobe instead, allowing him to slowly pull it out of the knot and let the robe fall open.

And there it was, the look she had wanted. Hungry expectancy that changed to utter drop-jaw astonishment and then amazed delight. And desire, oh so much desire in his widened eyes even as he searched for words and couldn't find them – or if he did, he never got to say them before she stopped him simply by bending over with her hands on his shoulders and kissing him. It even took him a moment to respond and put his arms around her in turn, but then he pulled her roughly to him as she got on his lap, straddling him while she pushed his head back to kiss him more deeply. Just like she had thought the texture of his shirt and jeans against her naked skin felt incredibly sensual and when he pushed his hands under the robe to stroke her back and cup her breasts she started to shudder uncontrollably and press and rub herself frantically against him. Their tongues met and wrapped around each other as he teased and tweaked her nipples, and without breaking their kiss she slid her hands down his chest to claw at the zipper and button of his jeans to release his penis. At this his hands slid down too, over her back down to her hips where his fingertips slid under the edge of the briefs to caress her buttocks. Then she felt him grin under her lips just as he drew out one hand only to push it into the slit at the front of the briefs and slip two fingers into her. For a few breathless minutes they continued that way, moaning and panting. She let go of him briefly to get out of her bathrobe and let it slide to the floor, then raised herself slightly to grab him and guide him through the slit, teasing herself while he nibbled and sucked at her breasts. And then she felt his fingers in her crack, gently probing. For a moment she stiffened, hesitating, then she made herself relax again in almost reckless abandon, even pushed slightly against his hand, and then clutched him to her wildly and screamed as her orgasm hit as if out of nowhere.

"Aaahhh, oh god, oh god, don't stop … don't stop …" He didn't, even though he was panting himself quite heavily now, the sweat running down his neck and belly. When she leaned against him whimpering and relaxing again, he withdrew his fingers and slowly pushed the briefs down over her thighs until she got to her feet long enough to let them drop to the floor. Then he pulled her to him again and guided himself into her, pushing up as she straddled him once more and wrapped her arms around him as they got going, slowly at first, then gradually picking up speed. Soon they were bucking and thrusting so hard that they kept bouncing off and sliding down the couch and had to push back again, until she let go of his shoulders to grab at the backrest and hold on to that. Then she lost all sense of time and place, just holding on grimly for dear life and pumping and straining against him as hard as she could. Just when she felt her orgasm build up, she heard him gulp for air and cry out, as he arched his back beneath her and then fell back panting, his eyes closed in his by now nearly purple face. She clawed at his shirt and whimpered helplessly as her own orgasm shook her, then collapsed on him, her face buried in his shirt. He held her close and kept stroking her back and sides, until they both started to get their breaths back.

"Oh wow … Monica, seriously, one of these days you'll just kill me, I swear."

"Well, sorry but soo not sorry …!"

"Oh well. It'll make a nice epitaph. Taken in the prime of life by his own underwear."

She burst out laughing at that, unable to help herself and very aware that it seemed almost hysterical. When he patted her back soothingly it made her laugh even harder, until tears came to her eyes and her nose threatened to run.

"But it was such a sweet death …"

"Stop it! Oh god, stop it …!"

"Shshsh … Its okay … There, is that better?"

"Yeah. I guess. Oh. Oh god, you pretty much killed me too. Ouch. I can hardly stand ..."

"I don't even want to try." He bent over groaning deeply and took up the briefs, examining them critically. "Wow, how you can make something this ugly look so hot really beats me. If Marisol only knew …"

"Marisol?!"

He winced. "Our maid when I was small. She actually bought these for me."

"Your maid bought your underwear?!"

"No – well, yes, sometimes. This one, because my mother wanted me to have some presentable underwear in college, and I didn't want to spend my money on that. Not that I had any to spare anyway."

"Didn't you get an allowance?"

He winced again. "Yeah, but it was never enough. I spent it all on dates – you know, to get girls to go out with me. By the time I went to college I'd gotten pretty desperate for dates. But no matter how much I spent, I never once got past second base. Well, maybe up to third sometimes." He grinned wryly at the briefs before folding them and putting them on the couch. Monica picked up her bathrobe and shook it out.

"So, you spent all your money on girls and never got to have sex until you were in college?"

"Mmmh. Pretty much."

"When did it happen? Freshman year?" He shook his head. "Sophomore?"

"Mon –"

"Senior? You didn't have sex until you were in your senior year?"

"Well … yeah, just about."

"Oh my god." She plopped down on the couch beside him, hardly noticing at first that she was sitting on the underwear and then absentmindedly shoving it aside into the corner of the backrest. "But then you would have been, what, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three. Actually it happened on my twenty-third birthday."

"Really? Oh, that's so sweet! Did she know that?"

"No … I don't think so. We hadn't actually met before you see."

"Oh my. Strangers in the night?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"Well, go on, how did it happen?"

"You really want to know? It's such a pathetic story." He drew up his pants again and pulled up the zipper as she looked at him fascinated.

"Still, I want to hear it. She wasn't a hooker though, was she?"

"What? No. No, I had considered that, sort of as an absolute last resort, but could never go through with it. It was too – weird. But there was this girl the other guys talked about. The Virgin hunter."

"What?"

"I know. She liked to do it with virgins. It was her game. She did it for free too."

"Oh my god. And you -?"

"With the virgin hunter? I wish. I wanted to, but by the time I had finally got my nerve up, she was booked out. At least that's what her assistant told me."

"She had an assistant?"

"Actually I think it was her roommate. She used to help her, lining up the guys, setting the times and places … So when she told me there was nothing doing for another week at least, I asked her out instead. And nearly died when she said yes, just like that."

Monica pressed a hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh too hard. Chandler hooked an arm around her and drew her closer, playfully teasing her earlobe. She lifted her legs across his lap and snuggled up to him.

"Go on please. So you did it with the virgin hunter's assistant?"

"Yes. We went out, saw a movie, went to a lot of bars, had a lot to drink, drove around in her car … until we wound up behind a Wendy's. She was very drunk by that time, and she wanted a burger, but they were closed. So she had me instead."

Monica's shoulders were shaking silently as she buried her face in his shirt. "The one behind the Wendy's? Actually Ross told me about that, but not that it had been your first time. Wow. That's almost as weird as Ross' Disneyland time."

"Or the pool table?"

"Who told you that?!"

"Was that actually your first time? Come on, I told you mine, tit for tat."

"Oh god. Alright. No, the pool table wasn't the first time. But still with my first guy though."

"So when was that? How old were you?"

"Nineteen- …" and when his eyebrows rose "-ish. Alright, twenty."

"Not exactly an early starter either, were you?"

"Earlier than you! But yeah, I was rather – weird about it. It was kind of a big deal. I wanted it to be really special."

"Ah yes. The grand deflowering ritual."

"Stop it! That's not funny!" When he raised his hands in defeat, she gave in. "Well, maybe it was. But not for me, not then."

"I know. It wasn't exactly funny for me either. But you know what's funny? If we had gotten together at one of those Thanksgivings, we could have deflowered each other. Two virgins cancelling themselves out."

"You would never have done it with me!"

"How do you know that? At that point I would have done it with anybody. Well, maybe not with you, because you were Ross' little sister and he would have killed me. But I like to think I was open to persuasion, with the right incentive …"

"You mean if I had wanted you? But I did. I had a crush on you. Flock-of-Seagulls hair and all."

"Really? I don't think that would have lasted if you had gotten to know me better."

"Maybe, but then I didn't exactly have a lot of -"

She broke off when they heard steps approaching in the hallway. As they listened breathlessly and frozen to the spot, there was a bit of rattling as Rachel tried the door, and then a thump as she put her suitcase down to get out her keys. Monica hurriedly scrambled off him and curled up in the corner of the couch while he hurled himself across the living room, jumping over the coffee table and dashing into her bedroom just as Rachel came in, dragging her suitcase.

"Hey, you made it!"

"Yeah. Just barely though. I nearly didn't get a cab at the airport." Rachel yawned hugely. "What's with you?"

"Um, nothing much, just a bit under the weather. I just wanted to go to bed early."

"Yeah, me too."

"Oh? So how was Vail?"

"Urg, exhausting. If my sisters weren't bitching, my father was. All the whole sweet time." Yawning again she went to her room, but left the door open. Monica shifted nervously, realized she was sitting on Chandler's underwear again and pushed it deeper into the fold of the backrest, then put a pillow on it. Rachel came back out and headed towards the couch, but then changed her mind and went to the bathroom instead. Monica got up to rush to her bedroom, but there was no need to alert Chandler, as he already met her halfway in his dash across the living-room and to the door. There was just enough time for a quick kiss over the table, then he hurried to the door on tiptoe and let himself out, carefully shutting the door behind him. Monica sighed wistfully. Maybe he would sneak over later in the night, but there was no telling how long Rachel would keep awake watching TV, so it would be no use staying up for him.

Just when she headed for the couch again to retrieve the underwear, Rachel came out of the bathroom and plopped down on the couch with a weary sigh. Suddenly she felt very tired too. It had been a long day. Tomorrow was still early enough.

Or not, as it turned out. By the time she remembered the underwear again, Phoebe was already hurling it across the room and as if that hadn't been horrible enough Rachel had to go and pick it up with a long spoon and practically wave it in their faces.

"Alright, whose are they? Whooo-se are they?!"

Good question indeed.


	17. Sex, Lies and (no) Video, part 2

"**Alright, that's it! **I'm tired of covering for you two!"

Of course Joey had a point. It was a wonder he had gone along and taken the blame of the stray underpants in Monica's couch on himself. For them. Again. Come to think of it, it was really unbelievable how much he'd put up with so far. Of course, this was Joey, if anyone was flexible and broadminded enough to cover for them and let them get away with anything it was him. But now it seemed even Joey had his limits. And needed to make his concerns heard. Loud and clear, if only in the relative privacy of their apartment. And Chandler just had to grin and bear it. And hope they would be forgiven one more time. Again.

"This has got to stop!" Joey waved the underwear in Chandler's face and then hurled it disgustedly across the room. "And tighty-whiteys! What are you, eight?"

Somehow Chandler didn't think that this was the right time to explain about his emergency underwear. Or Monica's determination to spice up their sex sessions – as if they needed spicing up. Right now it seemed they needed toning down more. Although that would be a real pity, now that they had gotten so hot, even for their standards.

And here was Monica, of course she couldn't let him face the music on his own. She probably thought it was her fault alone, but in the very moment Phoebe had discovered the underpants on the couch and practically thrown them in their faces, all he could think of was that he should have retrieved them before leaving the evening before. After all they still were his. Even if Monica had stolen – well, taken possession of them. Since they had looked so unbelievably hot on her, he couldn't find it in his heart to blame her for this newest disaster. No, this was both their fault. Or nobody's really, because hey, you couldn't really control everything all the time, could you? Even if Monica seemed to think so.

"Thank you Joey, thank you so much!"

"Oh hey, no, you're **not** welcome!" Apparently this time they wouldn't be let off that easily. "Okay, look, I hate this! You guys keep embarrassing me! Yesterday, Rachel found your razor in our bathroom and I didn't know what to say, so I said it was mine and that I was playing a woman in a play. And one thing led to another and –" as he demonstrated his freshly shaven leg, Chandler had to admit it was a neat job. Even his father would have been proud of that smooth hairless shin. Too bad about that razor though, they really had been rather careless there. But shaving each other had been soooo much fun … He allowed himself a moment of reminiscing while Monica checked Joey's leg critically and then gave it the praise it was due.

"Wow! And around the ankles, you know that is a tough spot!" And not just there …

"Yeah, it was!" for a moment Joey seemed almost mollified, but only just. "All right, listen, I can't …"

Then Chandler cut in, aware that the others, especially Rachel, were bound to wonder what this was all about and would come to investigate. "Listen, all this lying has been hard on us too."

Joey hooted. "Oh, yeah-yeah, I bet all the sex makes it easier!"

Of course it did. He didn't even need to look at Monica to know that she thought so too. "Well, yeah, actually …"

But Joey wasn't finished. "**Meanwhile**, I get Rachel shoving **your** underwear in my face and asking when she can come see me star in _Ugly Woman_!"

Ugh, there was an image. They both winced and now Monica tried to her hand at pleading. "We'll try to be more careful okay? It's just that, we don't want everyone to know because this is going really well, and maybe the reason it's going really well is because it's a secret."

Oh, it was going well alright. He knew he didn't have enough yet, not by a long shot, maybe not ever. 11 weeks? They had to try for at least twice that.

"I know it sounds really weird, but we're just so bad at relationships." Yeah, they really needed sooo much practice still. They were practically beginners. And sooo slow on the uptake ...

"We are! Help us!" He loved how Monica entered into the game, gazing soulfully at Joey with trembling lips. For a moment it really seemed to work, like they had won Joey over one more time.

"All right!" Then suddenly he narrowed his eyes at Monica. "But - you do it with me once."

"Joey!" Neat shot, yeah, it really didn't do to underestimate him.

"Didn't think so." Joey said dryly and turned around to go to his room, leaving them standing there and in Monica's case, still wide-eyed.

"Phew, that was close. One of these days you really will have to do it with him." He withered under her gaze. "Just kidding."

"Oh?" Monica defiantly put her chin up. "Well, maybe I will." She held his gaze just long enough for him to let doubt creep in, then she burst out giggling. "Just kidding!"

"Oh, and I was just starting to look forward to watching – ouch." And ooops, wait a minute, there was an idea, right there. Oh yeah, that should work. Just the thing to reciprocate properly on her underwear idea …

Monica looked at the door, suddenly sobered again. "Um, shouldn't we go back? And, listen, I'm really sorry about –"

"Sh, sh. It wasn't your fault."

"What? But I forgot –"

"Yeah, well, water under the bridge. Forget it. What about tonight? When will you be home – oh, shoot, Ross is going to be here. Well, how about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow'll work. I'll get home early."

"Ooohkay. Tomorrow then. 6 p.m. My place. Bring something nice to not wear. Oh, this is going to be good!"

Now she was intrigued. "What? What will?"

"You'll see." He grinned delightedly, his mind already busy with the details. "Oh, you'll see."

.

It was a good thing he had the planning to keep him busy or the way the others kept intruding on him and Monica whenever they tried to snatch a few minutes alone time would have driven him crazy. He wanted nothing better than to talk to her about her great underwear caper – really just talk – but even that had been impossible so far. Joey still seemed to bear a grudge and if that wasn't enough, Rachel simply didn't seem able to let the matter go, needling Joey again and again for what seemed like the thousandth time, when all they wanted to do was enjoy their usual knock-off coffees on their beloved old couch.

"Can we please drop this?" Joey looked just about ready to explode. Right. Maybe some special consideration for his roommate would be in order? Just a little something to sweeten him up a little again?

"But I don't get it. Does anybody else just take off their underwear when they're hot?"

If they were weren't used to wearing any in the first place … Ah, bless Phoebe with her literature class and newfound love for the classics. At least her enthusiasm got Rachel off their backs. And when Ross came in with his 'Hi' seemingly reverberating all the woes of the world, it appeared like the underwear disaster was finally laid to rest.

"What's wrong buddy?"

Ross seemed almost ready to burst into tears. "Someone at work ate my sandwich!"

He just couldn't resist. "Well, what did the police say?!"

"My Thanksgiving leftover sandwich." Now Ross was actually wailing. "I can't believe someone ate it!"

"Ross, it's just a sandwich!" But it didn't need Monica's scuff to remind him that with Ross it was never that simple.

"Just a sandwich? Look, I am 30 years old, I'm about to be divorced twice and I just got evicted! That sandwich was the only good thing going on in my life! Someone **ate** the only good thing going on in my life!"

Bummer. "That's a nice sweater vest …" He offered lamely, earning a disgusted look. And yet it was a nice vest. He should get one like that too. Maybe have Monica try it on too?

Monica, who now managed to cheer Ross a little with the promise of another sandwich. Only a little though, since he insisted on showing them the note he had added to save his sandwich from being eaten. As Joey said, it was a wonder he didn't end up wearing his lunch. Then Phoebe, who had finally finished with 'Wuthering Heights', shocked them all to the core by her version of a warning note that she didn't write so much as nail down on the paper. As he read it, he resolved immediately never to get into Phoebe's bad books.

And Monica almost looked awestruck. "Phoebe, you are a bad ass!"

Phoebe smirked and sipped on her coffee. "Someday I'll tell you about the time I stabbed the cop."

"Phoebe?"

"Well, he stabbed me first!"

Strange how noone really wanted her to elaborate on that ...

.

During the remainder of the evening and the following night he made some halfhearted efforts to get Monica alone, but it was hopeless. After Ross had returned to the apartment reverently holding the sandwich in his hands as if it was nothing less than the Holy Grail he stayed up until late, watching TV and working on his laptop, seemingly unwilling to go to sleep and let the sandwich out of his sight for even one minute. It was no use getting Joey to help him get out either, not while he was still rankled about the underwear disaster. But he overheard him lining up a date for the next day, which suited his plan perfectly. If all went well, they would have at least two hours for themselves, two whole hours to do anything they wanted. It was perfect. Now if only tomorrow would come sooner …

It seemed like an eternity, but finally the afternoon rolled around and he started on his preparations as soon as he had returned to his apartment. Blankets. Pillows. More pillows. Candles distributed across the living room. A whole box of condoms. Champagne in the fridge and glasses ready on the counter. And last but not least the clincher: Joey's video camera on the big tripod, set up and aligned at just the right angle. Since Joey always kept it on the shelf above the TV, he didn't even have to steal it – if you could even call it stealing considering that most of the money Joey had paid for it with had been his.

Then there was nothing left to do but wait. At first he tried to kill the time by trying out different angles and places he could point the camera at and deciding which lamps to leave on, then he just sat on a pillow, waiting. And thinking.

Thinking about how exciting his life had become all of a sudden. Ever since London. Ever since they had found that strange, exhilarating, breathtaking attraction for each other that kept getting stronger. It was crazy, but the more they did it the more they seemed to want each other. Maybe it was really only the excitement caused by the secrecy and the fact that they both had been rather at loose ends before London, frustrated and yes, lonely. It was all good and well to spend your time with your friends, forever hanging out and having fun, but there always came the point when the door of your room closed behind you and you had to face yet another night alone. There were people who actually wanted that, wanted nothing better than to be left alone to their own devices, but he wasn't one of them. At first, right after college when he had gotten the apartment, he had rather enjoyed the freedom and independence, to be finally free of Ross and his obnoxious air purifier, to have his own space to do with as he pleased. The feeling had lasted for quite a while, until his relationship with Kathy actually, though there had been several times when he had realized that there was something missing. Like the one three years ago when Mr. Heckles had died and he had so clearly seen what his life could be like some thirty or forty years down the road if he didn't find that something. That something he wasn't sure he could get, only that it was missing from his life. And that missing it hurt.

And though he still wasn't 100 % sure if this crazy, secret relationship with Monica really was that missing thing he had not even sought after that hard, he was very much aware of how much it had turned his life around. In the last ten – almost eleven – weeks he had spent every waking hour thinking about her, the things he wanted to do with her and how they could go about them. He had hardly had a decent night's sleep in all that time and thought that he had lost weight too, which wasn't surprising really considering how often and strenuously they kept going at it, and how little of that he'd had before. As a fitness program there was nothing to beat it. And he still wanted more, could not get enough.

And neither could she apparently. There had been something in her eyes when she had presented herself to him in his underwear that told him that she was as much addicted as he was to that sheer desire, that deep insatiable longing that kept them attracted to each other, as if they were locked together unable and unwilling to free themselves again. To both of them that freedom now would mean loneliness again, their daily routine unrelieved by the excitement of their times together, and a dull, bleak future. While their relationship provided warmth, tenderness, laughter, arousal, thrills and fun. And possibly love. Oh yes, it couldn't really be denied any longer, he was definitely starting to love her. There were so many things he loved about her, and they all added up, so it was inevitable really that he would start to love her herself instead of just more and more aspects and features of her. When it had slipped out of him at Thanksgiving, he had gotten in a panic that it could be too soon and would freak her out, just like he himself had been freaked. She hadn't, but she also hadn't let anything like that slip herself so far. Apparently it was still too huge. They needed more time to adjust to it, get used to it. A lot more time.

After all, they were both soooo bad at relationships. And soooo good at the fun.

When she finally came, ten minutes after the hour, Chandler had gotten so antsy he didn't even let her finish her apology before pulling her into the apartment and locking the door securely. And whatever she had still wanted to say died on her lips when she saw the setup with the blankets and the camera. And the candles. For a long moment she just stood still, taking it in, then she turned to him, her eyes shining, and wordlessly threw herself into his arms.

"So, do you like it?" His voice was actually wavering on the last word and he found that his hands were shaking too as he tried to slip them under her black jacket and the red sweater beneath.

"Um, I-ah, um LOVE it – !" And she kissed him until he saw stars. "What a great idea! Much better than mine!"

"Oh I wouldn't say that … mmmh … so … did you bring …?"

"Yeah, in my purse." She opened it to let him get a glimpse of something black and filmy and giggled when he let his tongue hang out panting, then she went into the living-room to inspect and admire the camera on its tripod.

"This is really neat! But why didn't you put it up in your bedroom?"

"I tried, but there wasn't enough room. Also it's too dark. I thought, we could just use the bedroom for … changing …?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Oooh, I like that! Come on!" And she hurried to his room. When he caught up with her, she was already getting out of her pants, so he took off his sweatpants too. As soon as he started to unbutton his shirt however, she held him back.

"No, wait – wouldn't it be better if I took off your clothes … you know on film …?"

Chandler grinned blissfully. "Oh Mon, you'll really be the death of me one day. But not today."

"I should hope not!"

So he started the camera and sat on the blanket, waiting for her entrance. When she did come out of his room, wearing a black lacy slip and a seductive smile, and nothing else, his heartrate sped up noticeably. As he held out his arms inviting her in, she came closer and knelt down in front of him, leaning in for a kiss. He let his hands slide over her back and shoulders, deepening the kiss, and then tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer, on his lap until she straddled him while he slid his hands under the slip at her back to caress her buttocks. As he had hoped she was going commando, and now her hands started to roam too, under his shirt and then to his boxers, her fingertips tantalizingly grazing over his erection. For a fleeting moment he wondered if it would look better on the video if they did it rocking chair style or if he bedded her on the pillows with her legs hooked over his shoulders, but then she tugged his boxers down and lowered her head to take him into her mouth, and that pushed every other thought right out of his mind. He closed his eyes and clenched his hands on her back and for a long torturously sweet moment only heard himself breathe heavily and moan, and then the rattling of the door as someone tried to open it –

He came to his senses just as Joey put his key into the lock and jumped up to sprint into his room, closely followed by Monica. Only when he had arrived there he realized that it didn't matter if Joey saw them, but the damage was already done. He heard a woman – Joey's date of the week, what was her name? Celia? No Cynthia – being pleased over the candles first and then outraged over the blanket and the camera before storming out. Shoot, he should have warned Joey about this, but it had never occurred to him that he would bring his date home instead to her place. Well, the least he could do was clear up the misunderstanding, so he hurriedly got into his sweatpants and went into the living room. Where he came face to face with Rachel.

"Joey, is what she just said - oh my God! You were actually gonna –"

Oh shoot, now he'd done it. No way Joey was going to cover up for that too. Or was he? Only one way to find out …

"What is going on here?" Rachel gaped at him and then turned to Joey who looked as if he wanted nothing better than to throttle him. Which he could totally understand.

"And with Chandler in the next room. What are you, sick?"

As Joey stood there undecided, clenching his fists, he pleaded silently at him with his hands put together. Come on, please, just this once, one more time … Oh thank god.

"I'm Joey. I'm disgusting. I – I make … low-budget adult films." Wow, for Joey this was actually a truly inspired excuse, almost too good for Rachel. Chandler thought he actually detected a glint in her eyes when she turned around again to look at him and the setup. Maybe there was something about it she liked after all? She still seemed shocked into speechlessness though. As Joey looked daggers at him behind her back, he shrugged and feigned helpless confusion at her outrage, changing to pleading once more when she turned back to Joey, who now played at stony indifference.

"A-Adult films?!" she actually sounded breathless now. "Oh my god …!"

Joey shrugged again, grinning and winking at her. "Well, I heard there's big money in that … you know what I mean?" Rachel's jaw dropped at that and she almost choked.

"I don't believe it! I don't … I can't … ugh, no, don't touch me! We're not finished …!" and she bolted for the door, swerving around Joey as far as she could manage. Chandler heard her calling out for Monica as soon as she reached the hallway, and then slam the door of no. 20 right in Joey's face.

Now Monica came out of his room too, still in the black slip, but with her jacket thrown over it. Together they ruefully faced Joey when he came back into the apartment to berate them, his arms crossed belligerently across his chest.

"You guys **promised** you'd be more careful! I mean, come on! The good Joey name is being dragged through the mud here!"

"We're so sorry ..."

"Well, I'm telling everyone about you! That's the only way to explain the underwear and the video camera that doesn't make me look like a pig!"

Oh god, no, not that, not like this, they were not ready for this …

"No-no, wait! There's got to be a better explanation. You can tell them you **had** to make an adult film for your … your … adult film … class!" He actually felt quite proud of that one, especially since it convinced Joey too.

"Yeah, I like that. But no - how does that explain why Rachel found **my** underwear at your place?"

"Oh—I don't know." Apparently all his inspirational solutions for today had been used up.

"Well, get ready to come out of the non-gay closet!"

Now Monica seemed to feel it was her turn to plead. "Okay, just wait, please. I promise we'll come up with something. Just give us a little more time!"

Thank god Joey always had a soft spot for her. He had to remind her to cook something special for him soon.

"All right. Hey, but it better make me look really, really good." Now there was a tall order. How on earth -? But no matter, something would come up. Somehow.

Already at the door to his room Joey turned to them once more. Oh no, what now?

"Oh, and another thing, the video camera?" Grinning he gave them a thumbs-up. "Niii-ce!"

Yeah, he really should have warned Joey before of what he had planned. He of all people would have understood. Oh well, another day, another chance.

"Is – is that thing still on?" Monica now asked in a small voice, pointing at the camera. Shoot, so it was, and now he had to erase the whole thing again – including the short part at the beginning before they were so rudely interrupted. Which left him with nothing to show for his great idea, while Monica's at least had led to sex. Hmm, speaking of which, maybe something could still be -? But no, she was already starting to blow out the candles and fold the blankets. And he knew only too well that she hated to do it while Joey was in the next room, and with him still mad at them too. Sighing he unscrewed the camera from the tripod and took out the videotape.

"I guess we'll have to erase that. A pity really."

Monica took the tape from him and pursed her lips. "I guess. Unless …"

"What?"

"Well … maybe we could still watch it? At least the beginning …?"

Chandler considered. "Oookaay … but what if Rachel comes in again?"

"We'll watch it later then. When Rachel's asleep." She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I should go now anyway. Or Rachel will think that Joey got me to star in his porn movie and come back to rescue me."

"Or watch it …?!"


	18. The One with all the Sex Addicts

_A/N: I had another title planned for this chapter, but unfortunately it was a little too long for the space fanfiction provides for titles. But I liked it so much that I couldn't let it go entirely and decided to put it here:_

.

Chapter 18: The Cook, her Lover, his Roommate &amp; the Photo

.

Once Monica had the idea – in the night after the video session - it took her two days to make the photo. First she needed to find the manual of her Polaroid camera because she had to make sure that it had an automatic release and find out how it worked. Then she found that she only had one photo sheet left and instead of getting a new pack she decided to try and get a perfect photo right away. It was a real challenge and thus appealed to her much more than the safer option of getting a spare pack beforehand. It also seemed like much more fun that way, since she would have to think it all out and plan everything in advance to get the photo exactly right. Things like the lighting, the location at which it would be taken and, most importantly, her position in it. The best location would obviously be her bed, but she did consider the easy chair, the couch and the bathtub too, just to have some more options. The position that would work best was harder to find. It had to be one she could assume fast enough in the time window the automatic release left her and yet be intricate and seductive enough for a truly great picture, one that Chandler would love to look at, just as much or even more than she'd loved the video idea. They still hadn't found the time to watch the first minutes of the video until Joey's sudden appearance yet, since getting alone time became harder and harder for them when it was cold outside and the nights came early, and their friends preferred to stay indoors most of the time. She hoped that their Christmas shopping sprees would give them a little time or at least provide them with some new excuses, but wasn't really sure it would work out that way. They would probably have to play everything by ear again, take it as it came, as always.

But that was for another time. Now she had to concentrate on the photo.

As for the location she finally decided to go with the obvious after all, which was her bed. Not only would it allow her to take the photo in the ensured privacy of her bedroom, but it also was the place where they did it most often, the one which had never let them down yet, that had always been "safe" for them. Last but not least, it was the place where they had done it for the first time in New York. She still got goosebumps every time she remembered that day. How ecstatic she had been when he came back into the apartment with that silly yet genius still-on-London-time line, how much of a load seemed to have been lifted from her, how indescribably wonderful that first passionate kiss had been and the all-consuming desire it had sparked. And how weird and yet thrilling it had been to watch him undress in her bedroom – her longtime friend and neighbor Chandler of all people getting naked in her own private bedroom - and then undressing her too and doing it with her, arduously and passionately all through that long, hot, sleepy afternoon, with no one to interrupt them or interfere with them or even know what they were doing …

So she decided to try and somehow capture the atmosphere of that first time in her apartment on the photo, the very moment when he had gotten her out of her dress and urged her towards the bed. When she had lain down on it on her back inviting him to her, thrilled to the core by his obvious arousal, the utter worship and awe in his eyes, the blind desire that devoured her as soon as they touched again, as he kissed and caressed her all over while he was easing her out of her thong and her sandals. When she had been running her hands over his back and chest down to his groin, taking hold of his already fully erect penis that had throbbed and twitched so urgently under her fingers, promising a wealth of pleasures and delights to come to her and faithfully keeping everything it had promised too. Every single time.

So she decided that the position that would work best would be for her to lie on her back across the bed, half raised upwards supported on her elbows, one leg drawn up with one foot on the edge of the bed and the other still on the floor; and she would be naked except for her sandals and her thong which would already be drawn halfway off her hips. The photo should not get too revealing or even pornographic, but still very erotic. Her hair would fall loose over her shoulders, her lips would be parted a little and her eyes half closed … She practiced getting into that position until she thought she had it down to perfection and then placed a few items as markers on the bed so she could set up the camera in just the right way. There was less sun than there had been on that afternoon in mid-September, but she found that if she took the photo around noon with the blinds not lowered all the way down it would still look quite like it had eleven weeks (eleven weeks! Almost three whole months!) ago.

In the end it took her almost an hour to take the photo, but it was worth every minute. When she finally started the automatic timer and then hurried back to the bed to get into position, it gave her such a rush that instead of getting up afterwards to check the photo, she remained on the bed for some more minutes, enjoying the thrill the memory and the carefully planned project had given her. And the anticipation of seeing the photo, and seeing his face when he looked at it for the first time … Maybe he would even want her to re-enact it for him, so that he could watch her, and she could draw it out to heighten the pleasure even more … That idea alone was so exciting it made her stay on the bed even longer while she re-imagined the scene, mingling it with the memory of that afternoon, until it got too much for her and she began to masturbate in earnest, first with just her fingers and then with the help of her vibrator that she hadn't used at all since London. Just when she started to apply it, it occurred to her that Chandler would probably love to watch that too and that thought alone was almost enough in itself to send her over the edge. As soon as she got herself somewhat under control, she went over the whole scenario again, right from the beginning, starting with the memory and the photo setup and following it with the imagined re-enactment, until she finally climaxed and then collapsed on her back, panting and sweaty, and shuddering in the aftermath.

Of course she would have preferred to have Chandler there, but for a start it had been quite satisfying, and rather promising too. And the photo, when she finally got up to check it, was, of course, everything she had wanted it to be.

.

She had planned on giving him the photo sometime that night, after he came over to her bedroom, but when she saw him sitting on the couch at Central Perk that afternoon reading his magazine all alone she just couldn't resist. The photo had been so perfect she hadn't been able to leave it in her bedroom and had taken it with her to work instead, to look at it surreptitiously a few times during her break and on the way home. Now it almost seemed to her as if it was burning a hole in her bag. So when he smiled at her tenderly, his eyes lighting up as she got on the couch beside him, she got it out of her bag and handed it to him, amazed to find that she was still so worked up her voice was shaking a little.

"Okay, so umm, since that video camera thing didn't work out uh, I thought that I would give you just a leeattlle preview …"

Chandler glanced at the photo and gasped in exaggerated surprise. "Huh, you're **naked** in this picture!" Still she could see from his goofy grin and by the way his eyes had widened that he was truly thrilled, and giggled happily.

"I know!" That got him to grin again. As he examined the picture carefully, she started to explain, but caught herself up short when she saw her brother enter the café out of the corner of her eyes. She nudged Chandler to warn him and he hurriedly slipped the picture into his magazine while Ross ambled over and dropped into the easy chair, a goofy grin instead of his usual scowl or plaintive whipped dog expression on his face. Also he was eating cotton candy. A giant amount of violently pink cotton candy. And he paid the two of them no attention at all.

"Ross?" Chandler asked, very carefully. Ross looked up and grinned cheerfully.

"Hey Chandler." When he saw Monica, he seemed almost surprised. "Monica!"

"Ross, are you okay?" For a second she thought wildly that it was that doppelganger of her brother they had met here once, not Ross. He really seemed to be a completely different person.

"I'm fine! I saw a psychiatrist at work today." Ross licked the candy from his fingers and grinned vapidly at them. Oh my god, what had happened to him? Had he finally lost his mind over all the trouble and stress?

"Why?!"

"On account of my rage." Ross replied quite calmly, taking another huge bite.

"Which I may say, right now, is out of control ..." Chandler commented drily. Ross just shrugged.

"He gave me a pill for it."

"A pill?!" That must have been some pill indeed.

"Uh-huh." Now he seemed almost bored. "Well, when the psychiatrist told me I had to take a leave of absence because I yelled at my boss I started to get worked up again …" now he sighed a little "… so he offered me a tranquilizer." Another bite of the candy. "And I thought was a good idea … so, I took it."

"Wait a minute, they're making you take time off work?" Oh my god, Ross without a job? Her mother would never let her hear the end of it …

"And you're okay with that?" Chandler asked, equally shocked. Of course, Ross not wanting to work was even weirder.

Her brother actually shrugged. "I don't know. It's going to be weird not having a job for a while …" and then he grinned at them slyly. "But I definitely don't care about my sandwich!"

"Yeah, you know, I hate it when they make me see the shrink at my office." Chandler said conversationally and it actually took Monica a moment to realize that he just trying to relieve the tension. As always. "You know, he's always like 'Oh maybe your colleagues will like you better if you like yourself better.' Who needs that?"

Well duh. "_You_ do!"

Chandler winced. "I _know_!"

"Then why don't you – oh never mind." She turned to her brother again. "Ross – hadn't you better go and lie down maybe, get some rest?"

"Why? I told you I'm fine! Don't worry about me. I lost my sandwich, but now I've got this. It's so good. Want some?"

Ugh. The thought of all that sticky sugar alone almost made her sick. Ross grinned and shrugged unconcernedly, and then tried to take an even bigger bite. He ended up with the whole blob of candy stuck on his face and hair and hands. By the time they had helped him get cleaned up and talked him out of getting another stick of candy, both of them had completely forgotten the photo in Chandler's magazine.

.

She hadn't expected him to sneak over that night at all and by the time he came in and slid under the covers she had actually fallen asleep already; waking with a start that almost had their heads bang against each other when he tried to kiss her. They pressed against each other silently, entwining their arms and legs, shushing each other with ever deepening kisses. At last, when they felt unable to hold back any longer, she reached across him to switch on the light and hunt up a condom, and it was precisely in that moment she remembered the photo and froze in mid-movement.

"What is it? Something wrong?"

"No – I don't know – where's the photo I gave you?"

Chandler's jaw dropped. "The. Photo. The photo? Oohh – that photo. Oh god. It's – um, I think it's still –" and then he winced when her eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth, shocked to the core.

"It's still in the Perk? OH MY GOD!"

"SSSSHHH! Not so loud!"

"Oh my god, I can't believe you left it there …"

"Shsh. Calm down! It's going to be alright. It's still in the magazine. My magazine, Gunther knows that it's mine, no one else reads that crap anyway." When she still wasn't convinced, he almost got desperate. "Look, I'll go get it first thing in the morning, the minute they open, okay? Trust me, I don't want anybody else to see it either."

"First thing? Promise?" Monica tentatively started breathing again. "Oh god, if someone else sees this – I think it would kill me."

"Yeah, me too. Um, by the way, how did you do it, I mean to get it so hot?"

She grinned. "It's really hot, isn't it?"

Chandler leaned forward and started kissing his way downwards from her jaw over her neck to her breasts. "Oh yeah. It nearly burned my fingers. Let's hope the Perk doesn't burn down over night ..."

.

By the next morning she had almost forgotten about the photo until Ross and Joey came in for breakfast without Chandler. When he came a few minutes later, rather out of breath, he gave her a surreptitious smile and a thumb-up when nobody was looking their way. So he had retrieved the photo, and she let out a deep sigh of relief, fervently hoping that this was the last she'd see of it.

Except, of course, it wasn't.

.

After she had accompanied Phoebe to her literature class, which had turned out to be enormous fun – she had almost forgotten how good it felt to not only rise to a challenge, but actually go over the top, exert herself and really let off steam – they joined Ross and Chandler in the Perk for coffee, so Phoebe could rant about her behavior and tease her to her heart's content before they returned to Bedford Street. Though try as she might she couldn't get close enough to Chandler to touch him or exchange a few words with him, so they had to contend themselves with a few surreptitious hot glances and winks across the table. On the stairs to their apartments they tried to stay a little behind the others, briefly holding hands and smiling at each other. So when they arrived at # 19 at last, the drama had already unfolded without them.

The yelling started just as Ross and Phoebe reached the landing on the fifth floor before them. It sounded like Rachel repeating "sick-sick-sick-sick-o" over and over again, interspersed by Joey's helpless denials, and it caused a cold shiver to run down Monica's back. Exchanging a worried glance with Chandler she hurried to #19 where an outraged Rachel was screaming at Joey while Ross and Phoebe tried to catch up on the situation. Had Joey stolen her moisturizer again? And then Chandler spotted the photo in Joey's hand.

"Oh nonononooo!" Her photo. In Joey's hand. He had found it. And looked at it … She felt as if the floor had tilted under her feet. Her photo. Her photo! Her naked photo!

"What's going on?"

Rachel grabbed the photo and waved it triumphantly in their faces. "Joey has got a secret peephole!" How the hell had he found the photo? But then she saw the magazine lying on the kitchen counter, where Chandler must have left it this morning, for everyone to see and pick up …

"Yes! He has a naked picture of Monica! He takes naked pictures of us! And then he eats chicken and looks at them! Look!" Now she actually shoved the picture right into Ross' face, who averted his eyes.

"Dude! That's my sister!"

"Give me that!" The photo nearly tore as she grabbed it and hurriedly stuffed it into her back-pocket, but the real damage was long since done anyway. They had gone and done it again, got careless and exposed themselves, and now it finally seemed as if judgement day had arrived and nothing at all could save them anymore. They were doomed. Everything would come out now …

"All right, wait! Just wait. Everybody just calm down. Okay?" That was Phoebe, bless her. "Let's give our friend Joey a chance to explain why he's such a big pervert!" Or not. Oh god, poor Joey, no way he would cover for them this time. It was over.

"No! I am **not** a pervert! Okay? It's just… I just… Kinda…"

Now Chandler stepped forward and she almost dared to hope again. If anyone could think his way out of this, it was Chandler. "All right, look! Look. I think I can explain this." He put his hands on Joey's shoulders, and his roommate seemed almost pathetically grateful.

"Joey's a sex addict." That made everybody gasp with shock, including her. Most of all Joey of course.

"What?! No I'm not!"

Wait, actually it wasn't so bad … "It's okay! It's good! It's good. It's a disease!" she tried to reassure him. After all this was Joey, maybe he would buy it after all …

"No! No! I am **not** a sex addict!"

"Yes you are! That's the only way to explain all this stuff!" She tried her utmost to plead with him, silently trying to promise him never-ending catering and cleaning services if he only – but no, it was no use. "No it isn't! No, it's not. Because you can also explain it with the truth!" Alright, so this was it, they had taken it too far. It was time to quit.

"Well, what is the truth?" Rachel demanded.

"Yeah, what's going on?" This was Ross. Did his pill still work? If not, she should make sure there were no baseball bats handy. Or knives.

As they all stared at Joey expectantly with crossed arms, she could almost see his brain working, and braced herself for whatever he would come up with. "I - slept with Monica ...!"

Certainly not that. For a long moment she couldn't even breathe. What in the world?

"Well let's….let's see what everybody thinks of that?" Even Chandler seemed at his wits' end. Well, she had it coming after all. Chandler had been careless, yes, but it was her photo in the first place. If she hadn't been so impatient, and waited a little longer to show it to him …

"You slept with my sister?" Ross growled and Joey winced.

"Uh yes, but it was, we just did it once, in London."

"This is not good for my rage." He grumbled, and Monica felt relieved when instead of jumping Joey and strangling him, Ross got out another pill. So far, so good.

"Monica, is this true?" Rachel actually sounded more concerned than shocked.

"Of course it's true! How else would you explain all the weird stuff that's been going on?" Joey seemed to be warming up to his idea. No wonder, it was better than anything Chandler could have come up with. It certainly did not make him look like a pig. So she really had no choice left. If she didn't want their secret relationship revealed – and she really didn't, it was far too early still – she had to play along, as outrageous and humiliating it would get for her. "Yes it's true."

"Okay, but if it only happened that one time, how come we found your underwear in our apartment the other day?" Damn Rachel and her sense of drama. And her excellent memory for other people's mishaps.

"Ahh— that was the underwear I was wearing that night in London. Right Monica?"

Now he actually slapped her on the back - more humiliation. She would have loved to kick him, but forced herself to play along. "I guess I wanted to keep it … as a souvenir."

"Are you sure Joe? Are you sure you're not just a sex addict?" Chandler tried once more to deflect the blame from her, but he might as well have tried to shield her from the spotlight with a paper umbrella.

"No! If anyone's a sex addict here, it's Monica! She has been trying to get me back in the sack ever since London!"

"So that's why she gave you a naked picture of herself." Phoebe nodded sagely. Oh god, why did this ludicrous story have to make so much sense?

"And the video camera?" Yes, that too fitted right in there.

"Uh, Monica?"

"I guess I set up the video camera to try and entice Joey." Ugh, the very thought. He would never let her hear the end of it. Maybe if she threatened to put a lock on her fridge?

"But sadly I could not be enticed." Joey said smugly. Oh yeah, as if.

"Oh Monica, this has to stop now." Just like Rachel, Phoebe sounded genuinely concerned, and Monica suddenly had an idea that the whole scenario was a little closer to home for her friends than she had dared to imagine.

"I know. I know. I know. I will, and I would appreciate if we all could just, you know, drop it. Immediately. And forever." Fat chance really, but she had to try.

"Okay. That is, if you can resist me." Now Joey actually leered at her. Okay, that settled it, tomorrow she would buy that lock.

"I'll give it my best shot!" Her baleful glance bounced right off him however, and he even wished her good luck. And of course Ross had still trouble to wrap his head around the concept.

"Unbelievable! I mean you really kept Joey's underwear?! Why? Why would you do that?!" he whined, and suddenly she remembered Joey's excuse at the breakfast table. "I'm Monica." Please let this be the end … "I'm disgusting. I stalk guys and keep their underpants." Ross winced and turned away. Well, as long as he didn't tell their mom …

To her intense relief Joey put an end to the embarrassment. "Well, I think we've all learned something about who's disgusting and who's not. Eh?" He took up his chicken bucket from the kitchen counter. "All right, now, I'm going to get back to my bucket. I'm only eating the skin, so the chicken's up for grabs ...?"

He actually seemed puzzled at why everyone should wince and retreat to a safe distance, then he shrugged and sat down on his barcalounger to watch TV. She hesitated a bit, to see if there was a chance she could talk to Chandler, and then let it go. They had been careless enough already, there was no point in pushing their luck needlessly. Talking could wait. Besides –

"Monica, come on!" Yup, there was the next ordeal waiting for her. Getting grilled by Rachel and Phoebe about her night with Joey. Wait, though, there it was, the chance to get back at him, right there. Pity though that he would probably never know. Or care.

As for Phoebe and Rachel – well, there was always that literature class. Maybe she could get the teacher to give them a few tests?

.

"Mon?"

"Mmmh?"

"Can we talk about it now? I mean …"

"I know."

"Oh …?"

"Yeah. We have to tone it down, don't we? It's really got – out of control somehow."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Oh good. I was afraid you wanted to take it even further."

"No. No, I think I've got enough embarrassment for a while. Let's just – take it easy for now."

"No problem." She felt his arms tightening around her and his breath tickling her neck as he kissed her on her shoulder. And then hesitantly cleared his throat.

"Sooo … no more kinky stuff?"

"Uh-huh. Well, for now."

"Okay. But what about the photo?"

"I put it away. In a safe place. I'm not sure though if I'd better burn it."

"Aw. That would be a pity. I loved that photo."

"Yeah. So did I."

"Um, what did Rachel and Phoebe say?"

She chuckled softly. "They wanted me to tell them everything. Every little detail."

"Oh god. And?"

"And what?"

"Did you tell them?"

"Of course I did, I always tell them everything, you know that."

"Oh. Um. Everything …?!"

"Just kidding! No, I said I didn't want to talk about it. But then they wanted to know how I made the photo, and then I had to show them of course -"

"What?"

"And then they wanted to make photos of themselves too …"

"WHAT? … Really …?"

"NO! Just kidding."

" … Aw."


	19. Playing with Fire

While he was tearing into his clothes in Monica's bedroom and getting ready for his Secret World Champion Record Cross Apartment Run from the bedroom to the door as soon as she gave the 'All Clear', Chandler reflected that getting out of the habit of living dangerously apparently wasn't going to be quite as easy as they had thought. True, they still hadn't been caught yet, even after almost twelve weeks (twelve weeks! That's three months, Baby!). And also true, ever since they had agreed to conduct their affair a little more sedately and quietly, and the hue and cry after the thing with the video camera and the photo had gone down, their well-tried and tested routine had established itself again. Okay, there had been that sticky moment just now in the Perk when he and Monica had both said exactly the same thing in the same tone at the same time and managed to give everybody pause for a moment – but only that, thanks to Joey. Compared to the other times where they'd escaped getting caught by the purest of luck only that had been almost laughable. And there had been nothing else for a whole week, not one more tight corner, no further narrow escape – it had almost become boring. Not that having sex with Monica could ever get boring, far from that. But all the things leading up to their meeting, that nicely balanced schedule, those carefully laid-out plans, made foolproof by numerous backups and fail-safes that guaranteed them undisturbed time alone together without any danger and always worked like clockwork – yeah, you could really have too much of a good thing. There was another side to perfect safety. It simply became … tedious. And so much harder to resist the temptation of heightening the risk a little.

Which was probably why they had gone at it a little differently this time. Fully aware of the fact that Rachel would come home from work at any time after 6 p.m. they had still tried to delay and draw out their foreplay as much as possible, and even invented a whole new game where each of them was allowed to take off only one item of clothing from the other - very slowly too, and also had to carefully fold it and put it on her chair - and the first to get naked won, while the loser had to keep the remaining clothes on. And of course it had been Monica who had won, even though he had left his coat, suit jacket (of his beautiful new suit that Monica and he had bought together) and that cute Santa tie (which Monica had chosen too) in his apartment as a precaution and had also guessed ahead that she would count his socks and shoes as four separate items. But just when he had thought it would end in a draw, she had smirked wickedly and then instead of his pants had only taken his belt off which left him in his pants and boxers while she was already down to her thong. So he had drawn that off her on his knees with his face pressed against her lap while she clenched her hands in his hair and on his shoulders, reveling in her victory. Then she had taken his pants off and taken her own sweet time about it too, also with the folding, still gloating and teasing him that he had to keep his boxers on. Which he had done, though putting on the condom had proven somewhat tricky. But the sex had been unbelievably amazing, even with – or maybe because of – the boxers, so much so he seriously considered to always leave them on now.

And of course they had lost all sense of time over that so that when Rachel did come home, they had only just finished; still lying on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, and slowly getting their breaths back. Monica had immediately thrown on her red bathrobe and rushed out to distract her roommate while he hurried into his clothes, of course snagging his zipper again in the process and skipping a button of his shirt as he strained his ears to catch their conversation. As far as he could make out it was about Danny again. That Yeti guy really was a godsend for keeping Rachel off their backs. If the date Monica had so ingenuously shoehorned them into worked out, they could count on some more free time for themselves. But apparently there had been a snag again. What else?

"Well, you should be, this is all your fault! You meddled in our relationship!"

"You had no relationship!"

"No, but I was doing my thing and everything was going according to the plan!"

Oh yeah, the famous plan. The 'put a ring through his nose and lead him around in circles' plan – yeah, too bad Danny had refused to cooperate so far, stringing her along instead …

"Oh God, stop with the plan! So what, so what you saw him with a girl? Who cares?! That doesn't mean anything! Now look, you're going to go out on a date with Danny and you're going to be so charming he's going to forget all about that stupid subway girl."

"She was kinda stupid. You're right. All right, I'm just gonna go on the date. I'm gonna go on the date. That is the new plan!"

Good luck with that. Judging by her voice she was now going to her room – yes, there was the sound of the door being opened. Did he have everything? Shoot, he'd forgotten his belt, no time to put it on – here was Monica already, urging him out of the door.

"Come on, hurry!"

Alright. Could he do it in five seconds? There was the desk to the right which was already piled high with boxes which threatened to topple from it if he got too close, but he also shouldn't swerve too far around it and risk hitting that table lamp on his left. One second. And then came the Christmas tree which he should give a wide berth too, not just because there were even more boxes under it, but all the dangling and swinging decorations would make an awful racket if he so much as breathed on them. Or came too close to one with the belt in his hand. Two seconds. After that it was a pretty clear run between the living room and the kitchen area where he just had to be careful not to make too much noise on the hardwood floor. Three seconds. Four seconds. Then all that was left was avoiding to collide with the end-table and getting the door open without upsetting the big Christmas wreath hanging from it and it was done. Five seconds by his count. Maybe six. Whew.

Except of course there was still one thing he had forgotten, and he hurriedly opened the door again. Yes, there she was, with a half-relieved, half-disappointed expression on her face which changed to amazement when he popped back through the door, caught her by the shoulders and kissed her quickly, but firmly on the lips, giving it all he had. Just before he shut the door again he saw her smiling in utter delight. Yes! They had done it again. Gotten away with it one more time, gotten the most out of it too with still no one the wiser … Still out of breath and grinning triumphantly he opened the door to his apartment, only to come face to face with Ross who was busy reorganizing their kitchen drawer, and now looked at him frowning. Joey, who was sitting in his Barcalounger brooding over a notebook, just winced at his disheveled appearance and shook his head.

"Hey man, what's up? What's that, your belt?"

"Oh. Hi. Yeah, that's my – um, it needed another hole, so I asked Monica if she had one. I mean, you know that thing to make holes with. Into belts."

"An awl? But I've got one!"

"Oh. You have? Sorry, I didn't know. Um, if you'll excuse me, I really have to …" and he brushed by him heading for the bathroom, only to be brought up short just before it.

"What's that? A dummy?!"

"Yeah, a mannequin, do you like it? I got it from a guy at the theatre where I had this audition today. They wanted to throw it away because it was a little damaged. But that's just at the back, it's hardly noticeable. And it's so cool!"

"Oh. Well, okay, but what do you want it for?"

Ross shrugged. "Dunno, just stuff. Hang clothes on it. Give burglars a scare?"

Yeah, like burglars wouldn't be scared enough already by his snoring.

"We could let it sit in front of the TV when we're away, so when someone gets in he'll think there's someone in the apartment."

"And use him as fourth man for poker!"

"Joey's even got a name for him already. Get this, Chummy the dummy?" Chandler just stared, for once at a loss for words. "Hey, how come you can think of a name for this guy, but not for your character?"

Joey sighed. "Because I don't have a rhyme? I need a rhyme first. Man … oh, man – man ... hmmm .."

"You guys really have way too much time on your hands."

Ross smirked. "Not anymore! Joey's got a project now, hasn't he? Huh?"

"Yeah, how 'bout that, I'm going to write a script for my own movie!"

Wow. Well, as long as it kept them both off his back, and gave Ross something to do, and as a bonus would even put a stop to those ridiculous phone calls to his office, he was fine with it. But maybe he should put in some quality time with Joey again soon. To make up for all the hassle he had keeping Ross from going crazy. Or getting cabin fever. Or both.

And help him to while away the hours until he could meet with Monica again. Without getting too bored in the meantime.

.

But when he got back from work the next day, all set to get up to all sorts of crazy things with Joey, it turned out his roommate for once wasn't game. It could have been so perfect, Ross was out spending time with Ben and trying to get tickets for the Rangers' game for them, Monica was still at work and Joey's agent still hadn't got an audition lined up that wasn't for gay porn. And yet he was still poring over his stupid new project. Even Chummy, now adorned with a Santa hat, had been exiled to the corner behind the couch. Chandler made a mental note to not freak out at the sight of the unfamiliar figure there in the night when he would try to sneak past Ross again. While he waited for Joey's attention span to wear out, he halfheartedly improvised a game against himself involving a spoon, a bowl and a ping pong ball on the kitchen counter.

"Hey, how do you spell 'suspicious'?" Aha, longer than he thought, but still within the usual time span of Joey's concentration powers.

"Why?"

"Because I think this character is going to be suspicious about stuff."

Chandler chose not to rise to that bait, preferring to congratulate – and scoff – himself instead after a successful flip of the ball.

"Yes! Chandler Bing, 7! Chandler _Bing_, zero!"

"You're driving me crazy with that!"

Finally. "Okay, I'll stop."

"Don't stop! Move the bowl further away! Ross could make that shot!"

Chandler obediently moved the bowl to the far end of the counter. At his next flip the ball nearly made it to the bathroom. But at least he had Joey's full attention now.

"Well, you suck! But at least you suck at a man's game now."

"You wanna play?"

"Chandler, I can't be playing games, Ross is gonna be home soon. And I have to write five whole pages if I'm gonna stick to his schedule."

Five pages? Clearly his friend was sorely in need of help.

"Well, so, play for the next 30 minutes and then write until he gets home."

"All right! But uh, listen, what do you say we crank it up a notch?"

Ah, sweet victory. "I'm intrigued ...!"

They shared a moment of perfect understanding and Chandler felt elated. This was the right way to stimulate Joey's creative powers.

"All right, all we need is a little lighter fluid …"

Well, stimulating them had never been a real problem. Containing them again on the other hand … But then walls could always be repaired or at least spackled over again. And it was so worth it just to see Ross' face when he found out that his project had failed. Even the new burn hole in his carpet.

.

Monica however wasn't as enthused as he'd thought, when he finally managed to sneak over sometime after 2 a.m.

"Ugh, what's that? You smell worse than Phoebe's bucket!"

"I guess lighter fluid, spackle and oven mitts don't really mingle …"

"Oh, speaking of oven mitts, you didn't use mine, did you?"

"Um …"

"YOU DIDN'T!"

.

Then it was Friday at last. The day that marked the completion of their twelfth week together. The day of Rachel's date. The day Monica had the evening free, so as soon as Rachel had left they could go at it again in peace. And last but not least it was the first day where they didn't need to use condoms until she went on her period again. Everything was right with the world. He got off work early and used the extra time to buy new oven mitts on his way home. And buying them sparked off another idea ...

.

"You got three pairs of oven mitts? I only need one!"

"I know. Here's your pair back. As to these, well I thought we could … take our game up a notch. You know, with using these." He demonstrated taking off Monica's sweater with oven mitts over his hands and was thrilled at her delighted grin. And by the time he noticed that he had forgotten to leave his suit jacket and tie at his place, she had already pulled him into her bedroom and shut the door. Oh well, doing it with his shirt and socks still on would be something new too. Just as long as she didn't strangle him with his own tie –

"Ouch, um, you know what, I think we havn't really thought this through …"

"It was your idea!"

"Yeah, but it really takes two to invent a really good game. One to invent it and the other to – fine tune the rules."

"Ha, you're just afraid of losing!"

"Well, you do have an unfair advantage –"

"What? I have not!"

"Of course you do. You're a chef, you're using these all the time. I bet you could take off my tie and belt in twenty seconds."

"Twenty? Ha, in ten!"

"Okay … one … two …- " Monica glared at him, then sighed and setting her teeth exasperatedly, grimly attacked his tie. He didn't quite see how, but she did get it off when he had gotten to six and then managed to open his belt too just as he arrived at eleven, pulling it out with her teeth.

"Hey, nobody said anything about teeth – um, oohhh, oh god …"

"Isn't that what fine tuning the rules is all about?" she inquired sweetly, the slider of his zipper still between her teeth. "Also it's your turn now!"

He bit back his next comment and concentrated on getting her sweater off her, groaning when he found that she was wearing a chemise under it which almost came off together with the sweater. Monica giggled and writhed excitedly under his oven mitts, consenting to a languid drawn out kiss before squatting to take off his left shoe. Her left slipper followed (that was when he noticed that she wasn't wearing socks), then his right shoe, her right slipper, his jacket, her chemise, his pants (to his relief), and then things got a little stuck while he grimly tried to fumble open her bra with the thick oven mitts. He comforted himself with the thought that Joey would have struck out at this point too. At last he succeeded by sliding his thumbs under it and pushing the ends together until the hooks were released. They celebrated his success by pressing together and pawing at each other with the oven mitts, kissing and entwining their tongues all the while. Then Monica toyed briefly with his shirt and a little longer with his boxers, but left them on after all and just drew his left sock off. As soon as she got up again, he kissed his way down over her chest and belly to her abdomen where he proceeded to take off her panties using only his teeth.

"Ooohhh …. Careful, don't tear them … aaaahhhh …" When they had finally slid down enough for her to step out of them he remained on his knees with his head pressed against her lap, working his tongue between her labia while stroking her hips and buttocks with the mitts. When Monica backed towards the bed trying to get him up he followed her on his knees until she fell backwards on the bed and hooked her legs over his shoulders while he slid his oven-mitt clad hands over her breasts. When she couldn't take it anymore and urged him up over her, almost losing her mitts when she pawed at him wildly, he found that doing it in his shirt and boxers was everything he'd thought it would be. Above all hot. So hot.

But then wasn't that what oven mitts were all about?

.

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse the next day. He nearly snapped when Ross tore up the tickets for the ranger game because Joey had failed to fulfill his quota of five pages; his only consolation the fact that he hadn't reimbursed Ross for the tickets yet. Then Danny managed not just to shock them all to the core with his uninhibited inappropriateness with his sister, but also to scare off Rachel for good, thereby losing him all hope of another oven mitt game that evening. And last but not least Phoebe turned up in a foul mood after having lost her donations collecting job, scaring off all potential donators with her signs and screaming, and later she and Rachel got them all to rent half a dozen videos and order pizza. When they were finally done, Phoebe decided to stay over at Monica's, effectively destroying all chances for a meeting later that night.

If only Ross would use all that time he now had on his hands to look for a place to live on his own again. Maybe he and Joey had made it too easy for him. He should have listened to Monica when she had tried to warn him. Apparently even four years as college roommates hadn't prepared him for Ross' sheer endurance when it came to adapting to averse circumstances. True, it did Joey good to have some company while he was at work or spending time with Monica, and the apartment had benefitted a lot from Ross fighting his boredom with cleaning and reorganizing everything in it. (Thank god he hadn't yet tried to mend his sawn-through door, since that was still invaluable for his sneaking efforts at night.) But enough was enough, so after his return from a short walk to get the Sunday paper Chandler decided to have it out with Ross once and for all.

"Oh hey! There's some kids playing in the street, you wanna go down there and give them a project, ruin their day?"

Ross just glared at him balefully. "Hey, if they have a ball maybe you can stick razor blades in it and teach them a new game, 'Gonna Need Stitches Ball'."

That begged the question just who was going to need stitches at the end of the day. Fortunately Joey came back just as he was thinking about setting Ross' ass on fire.

"Hey guys! I was at the library all morning and I already finished my five pages for today!"

"Great! Now, we can go to the Rangers game!" Chandler glared at Ross "Last night!"

"No dude, Ross tore up the tickets!" Oh great, maybe he should look for a new place, and let those two jerks tear out each other's throats all on their own.

"I guess when you don't have so many distractions, it's easier for you to focus. Huh?"

"Yeah or also when you don't have somebody breathing down your neck ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY!"

You'd really think that would do it, get through his thick skull – but Ross just sneered at him until Joey intervened.

"Yeah, well, that's fine, but the important thing is that I finished it. And uh, I think it's really good, but it would really help me if I could hear it. So would you guys read it for me?"

So they each took a copy and started to read the script. Chandler had to admit that Joey had done a neat job, the writing was almost legible.

"'It's a typical New York City apartment. Two guys are hanging out.' Ross –"

"Hey man."

"What is up?"

"About yesterday, I was really wrong. I am sorry."

"No, it was me. I'm sorry. **I** over reacted."

"Maybe it was both of us, but we had our best friend's interest …" Ross paused and frowned at the page. Chandler thought at first that Joey had misspelled 'interest', but then he finally realized where this was heading. "But we had our best friend's interest at heart."

"Could I **be** more sorry?" When, when, when would he learn not to underestimate his roommate? This was pure genius.

"I don't know, I'm one sorry po – polontologist ..." Well, maybe not genius as such …

Ross looked up from his script and sighed. "All right Joey, we get it." Then he turned to Chandler. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

"Oh no! No, keep reading! The good part's coming up. Keep going!" Joey grinned goofily.

"I am sorry, Chandler."

"I am sorry, Ross."

Joey took over, still grinning happily. "A handsome man enters." Yeah, what else. "Hey! How's it going guys? I don't know what you two were talking about, but I'd like to say thanks to both of you. You –" he looked at Ross "- wouldn't let me give up on myself, and you –" turning to Chandler with a blissful smile "- why, you co-created Fireball. The end."

"This took you all day?!"

Joey shook his head dismissively. "No-no, this only took five minutes. I spent the rest of the day coming up with new, Ultimate Fireball!" And with that he took out the parts of the new game – a bowling ball and a propane torch, igniting the latter with a mad gleam in his eyes. "Ha-ha!"

Apparently playing with fire wasn't such a good idea after all. At least when oven mitts were no longer a required part.

.

"He wanted you to what?"

"Well, it was in the script. Kelly loves Tiffany's perfume, so she invites her to get closer –"

"He gave you names? I thought he couldn't think up names!"

"Well for guys he can't. Maybe it's different for girls?"

"Alright. Gee, I wish I'd kept that copy. What else was in there?"

"Um, Kelly's sniffing Tiffany's neck …"

"Like this? Um, yeah, that is nice …"

"And then she goes lower …"

"Uh-huh …"

"And then … ummm … I don't know …"

"Umm … like this maybe …?"

"Could be. Or maybe … but we stopped reading at that point I think."

"Aw. Didn't you read ahead a little?"

"I think Rachel did. I'll ask her if she still has her copy. Anyway, I think –"

"What?"

"I think it was at that point that 'the Handsome Man' entered."

"Ah. That guy. I think I know what he would have done next."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah."


	20. Secret Santa

Friday breakfasts were the best. It was the one day of the week when Monica could really count on all six of them to be there for breakfast and at the same time. The day where they would be even more relaxed and in high spirits thanks to the upcoming weekend, and not as pressed for time as on the other days. She also liked it even better when it was a Friday in wintertime and still dark outside by the time they all gathered together in her kitchen, squeezing around her kitchen table, their warmth and laughter letting her forget the cold darkness outside. And best of all were the Fridays before Christmas. Especially last year when she had gone through hell and back at her new job and been so depressed about life generally and not having a boyfriend specifically, she had often felt she would have been completely lost without her friends to back her up. This year it was different. It was cold and dark outside, her colleagues were still making life difficult for her, but Christmas was only a week away and she did have a boyfriend. A secret boyfriend, but no less real for that, a boyfriend who had sneaked out of her bedroom only hours earlier and was now sitting beside her – very close in fact since due to the lack of space at her table they were squeezed together so tightly their knees and thighs were constantly touching, and they could play footsies and rub shoulders to their hearts content with no one else noticing. And to make it even more perfect it was December 18th. – not only did this Friday mark the completion of their thirteenth week together, but their third 'real' month. It was almost too good to be true.  
Now Phoebe tried to get everyone's attention, at first just shouting across their conversations and then tapping her mug until she thought it had to get at least chipped.

"Guys … hey, you guys! Listen up!"

"What is it?"

"What's up, Pheebs?"

"Are you listening?"

"I am. I'm not sure about Joey."

"Ofmg oaze I'mg izzgung…"

"UGH Joey! EW!"

"What? I'm listening now!"

"Okay, but please keep your mouth shut …"

"Hurry up then, my pancake's getting cold."

"This won't take long. Just this – I know it's kinda late, but could we do Secret Santa again this year?"

"Phoebe! You mean you still didn't buy any presents? It's only a week until Christmas!"

"Well, I want to, but when I have time to buy them I don't have any money. And when I have money I need it for different things."

"Aw, Pheebs, are you broke?" Chandler asked solicitously.

"No, I just don't have any money."

"Yeah, but when we did it last year, Secret Santa kinda sucked."

"Oh, so it sucked? Just because you couldn't exchange your gift …"

"Guys! Guys! Please don't start this again …"

Rachel sighed. "But actually … I hate to admit it, but yeah, I'm broke too."

"Me too …"

"Ross? Really?"

"I'M ON SABBATICAL!"

"And they don't pay you for that?" Joey looked puzzled as everybody around him rolled their eyes. "Alright! I'm broke too, but I guess you know that."

"Mon, what about you?"

"I'm not broke."

"Moooonnnnn?"

"Well … not broke. But a little …"

"Low on funds? Short for cash? More love than money in - - um."

"So we are all broke except Chandler?"

"Who says I'm not broke?"

"Oh please!"

"You've got more money than all of us together."

"That's sooo not tr–"

"But don't you get a bonus each Christmas?"

"Well, yeah, but –"

"Wow, a bonus. I wish I was getting one."

"But Rache, you always get one."

"Not this year. I really need a new job."

"Oooh, maybe Chandler could be our Secret Santa!"

"WHAT?"

"Just kidding. But it would be kinda nice!"

"Phoebe …"

"Alright, alright. But, can we?"

Monica shrugged. "Sure, if everybody's in, why not?"

"Yeah, let's do it again. Um, can we pick the names ourselves this time?"

"It doesn't work that way, Rache."

"Oh? How do you know? You changed your recipient so often …"

"But maybe we could change the system a little …" Monica paused and waited until she had everyone's attention. "I mean, last year really didn't work too well."

"I liked it!"

"You got me a t-shirt, Joe."

"So? Didn't you like it?"

"A t-shirt that says 'I know, but my roomie is hot'? But yeah, I did like it."

"So what's that system, Mon?"

"I thought we could pool our money upfront. Everyone puts as much money as they can afford into the pool, and then we split it up again. This way we each get something that's worth the same."

"But … um, wait a moment. What if someone only puts in, say, one dollar?"

"That's the risk we have to take. But I still think it's fair."

"But what if I put in 50 dollars and get a present worth 10 dollars? That's not fair!"

"Still better than last year. Didn't you get a packet of teabags?"

"Hey that was special tea! The leaves were cut at midnight and dried by the full moon …"

"Oh, did you try the tea?"

"Um – I'm still saving it for a special occasion. But thanks, Pheebs, I really like it."

"Oh, but by now it won't be much good anymore. You have to drink it while it's still fresh."

"Ah. Okay, so – yeah, this system actually sounds good. Shall we do it now?"

"Wait! Not like that. Everybody should put in his share secretly."

"How's that again?"

Monica got up and went to the living-room to rummage in one of the cupboards under the TV. At first she thought it was gone, but then she found what she was looking for in a corner and brought it back to the table.

"Wow, a piggy bank! Where did you get that?"

"That's really ugly! Um – I mean …"

"Yes?" she asked sweetly and Chandler winced under her gaze, until she relented.

"Yes, it actually is ugly. I've been looking for a way to get rid of it."

"Where's the key for it?"

"It doesn't have a key."

"But then – you have to break it …?"

"Uh-hu!"

"But wasn't that a gift from Fun Bobby?!"

"Yes, so?"

When she stared him down, Ross averted his gaze, muttering. Phoebe stared at the fat pink piggy bank and wrinkled her nose.

"I should feel sorry for it, but it's too ugly for that. So where will you put it?"

Monica picked up the piggy bank again. "The bathroom maybe? And tonight we'll open it."

"Smash it you mean."

"Have a smashing party!"

"Oh, but I can't tonight, my grandmother wanted me to go ice-skating with her."

"And I've got an office thing after work …"

"I need to take Ben to see Santa ..."

Monica made a show of rolling her eyes, but secretly she was almost ecstatic. It actually looked like she and Chandler would have the whole evening to themselves. She didn't dare look at him, but knew he was thinking the same thing.

"Tomorrow then? After breakfast?" After they had all agreed, she carried the piggy bank into the bathroom and put it on top of the cupboard. When she got back, she caught Joey turning to Chandler who was already digging out his wallet resignedly.

.

Her luck held up later too when she was able to leave work on time for once and even caught a subway right away. Chandler wasn't there to meet her when she arrived at the fifth floor and he didn't come out of his apartment either when she unlocked her door, so he must have been held up at work. Or so she thought, until she opened her door and found him stretched out under her lit up Christmas tree, in his boxers and Santa tie and nothing else, and grinning goofily at her as her jaw dropped.

"Oh my god …"

His grin widened even more and he held out a champagne glass to her.

"Happy three month anniversary!"

"Oh wow. Oh my god, what if Rachel had come back earlier?"

He shrugged. "I know, but I thought it was worth the risk. And now come here ... Mmmhh … um, what's that taste, a new dish? Is that curry?"

He had drawn her down to kiss her and she let herself sink against him until she was lying across him with his arms wrapped around her.

"Ugh, can you taste that? I guess I have to brush my teeth …"

"Sh, no, it's okay, actually it tastes quite nice. Better than your toothpaste."

"Really? What's wrong with my toothpaste?"

"Nothing, just too – soapy somehow."

"What kind should I get? Something more minty?"

"Yeah, but don't bother, it's fine." He pulled her even closer and slid his hands over her back and under her sweater and the blouse under it. She saw now that he had pushed all the boxes under and behind the tree and arranged several pillows and a rug to create a cozy little place to lie on.

"This is really nice! How did you get in here? I thought you had lost my key."

"Nope, I just had to try like a hundred others in our kitchen drawer until I found it. Do you like this?"

"It's perfect. But … you really want to do it here?"

"Yes. I've always wanted to do it under your tree. Is that okay?"

"But what if someone comes in … mmmhh … mmmmmh … yeah, it's … oh god … it's … yeah, it's a great idea. Mmmh …" He had opened her bra and now slid his hands over her breasts, teasing the nipples gently with the tips of his fingers, his arms holding her back when she wanted to raise herself up to take off her sweater.

"Chandler … at least let me take off my shoes …"

"No, let me do that." And he rolled her over and propped himself up over her, lifting up her legs one by one to remove her shoes and then drawing down the zipper of her skirt and tugging it down, slapping her hands away when she wanted to help. He put the skirt across the back of her easy chair and proceeded to take off her pantyhose, rolling it slowly down over her thighs inch by inch while she wriggled and writhed desperately to get him to move faster. At last he had got them off and laid them over the chair too while she sat up to take off her sweater. He helped her pull it over her head and then slowly and lovingly unbuttoned her blouse kneeling over her legs and kissing her at the same time while she buried her hands in his hair. Finally her sweater, blouse and chemise joined her skirt and hose on the backrest and she lay back raising her hips expectantly so he could take her thong off. But instead he got hold of the champagne glasses and the bottle and poured them a good measure.

"To London Time" he said softly as they clinked and her breath hitched when he smiled at her, his hair tousled from her fingers and his pupils dilated until there was only a thin edge of brilliant blue left around them. After they had kissed again and sipped, he gently pushed her back and then suddenly grinned and let some drops of the champagne spill on her belly over her navel. And licked it up immediately before she had time to react.

"Chandler …! Ow, uhmmm…"

"I always wanted to do that …"

"Oh god … but be caref-"

"Don't worry, I've got paper towels …" and he licked her belly again, making her arch her back and groan. Then he poured a little more over her breasts, carefully licking and sucking up every single drop. When his glass was empty and he sat up to refill it, she got up too and took it out of his hand.

"My turn now!" He objected at first, but then lay back obediently and let her take off the Santa tie. Then she carefully trickled a few drops on his chest, just over the place where his chest hair started and then on his nipples, licking it off while he tensed under her and groaned.

"You really don't have to, not with all that hair … oooh … um … what are you doing?"

She had turned around so she was straddling him with her buttocks almost in his face and started to pour the champagne on the area around his navel, carefully licking it up again with the grain of his hair, going further down with each lap. When she arrived at his boxers she pushed them away over his thighs and doused his penis in champagne too with the last drops in her glass. Chandler sighed contentedly as she licked the small trickles off, running her tongue along its length, and started to kiss her on her buttocks and thighs, reaching out to fondle her breasts from underneath her.

When her glass was quite empty she put it away and turned around again, raising herself up a little so he could remove her thong. Then she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, crossing her ankles on his back while he got on his knees bearing her up and then lowering her down again with him on top. When she felt his hands slide under her buttocks to hold her up, she closed her eyes and screamed softly, tensing and trembling as he nudged and teased at her entrance and then entered her urgently. She could still smell the champagne on their skin between them and taste it in his mouth as they kissed and let their tongues wrap around each other. He held back a little at first, until they had found their pace and then picked up speed. As her orgasm started to build up she opened her eyes, staring unseeingly at the Christmas tree above them and the tiny vibrating reflections of their joint bodies in each shiny bauble that hung from its branches.

.

Chandler had even thought of bringing a blanket, so they remained under the tree when they had finished, snuggling up and kissing softly. It felt a little weird to her lying naked on the floor in her living-room, but so cozy too.

"Chandler?"

"Mmmhh …?"

"About those presents …"

"Which ones? The official or the unofficial ones?"

"Um … did you already get me an unofficial one?"

"Um, no, but I was going to. Did you?"

"No."

"No? Really? But you always get your presents early."

"Not this one. I – I wasn't sure if – if it was right."

"Aw. Well I want to. I just couldn't think of anything so far."

"Really? Oh that's so sweet!"

"But it's not that easy, you know? We can't get each other something that would give us away."

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. So we have to hide them?"

"Yes, or stick to invisible presents."

"Invisible?"

"Invisible to the others. Things we can hide. Or – immaterial things. You know, like gift certificates, dinners …"

"Yeah, I get it. Let's do that. Invisible presents. That's perfect!"

"Oh yeah?" He grinned shyly. "And when should we have our secret Christmas? Afterwards or before?"

"Oh, afterwards. I could say I have to work after Christmas. Ross will probably stay at our parents' until New Year and Rachel said she would go skiing again. I think Phoebe wanted to stay with her grandmother. Or her birthmother. Or both. How about you? Got any plans?"

"Not really. My mother will probably drop by for lunch, and there'll be a thing at work, but other than that …"

"Aw, that's so sad! Maybe you could come with us?"

"To your parents'? No, that would be too risky. Just imagine if they found us together …"

"Oh my god. No, you're right. I wish I didn't have to go."

"Sh. It's just for a day. I'll get some rest and work on my libido. As soon as you get back we'll have our secret Christmas. Joey's going to stay at his folks, so we'll have the whole place to ourselves!"

"Ooohh, that's really something to look forward to. And to think about when my mother's putting me through the wringer again."

Chandler grinned and drew her closer again, and she hooked a leg over his waist.

"So, but what about the official presents …"

"What about them?"

"What if we pick each other?"

"We could try to switch, and if it doesn't work, we just get each other something. It's no big deal. I'm going to suggest that we buy gift certificates for the money anyway. Just to be sure we all get something that costs the same."

"What kind of certificates?"

"I don't know, for movies, video stores, beauty parlors – that is, if you need a pedicure again."

He snorted. "Sounds tempting, but I'd only run into Janice again and it was hard enough getting rid of her the last time."

"Oh my, no we can't risk that!"

.

The following morning after breakfast she put the piggy bank into a washtub and they all took turns smashing it. The total of all the crumpled ones, fives and tens plus three twenties (of which she was fairly sure that two were from Chandler), some assorted quarters and dimes and even a British pound that no one wanted to admit to amounted to 153 dollars and 72 cents.

"That's 25 dollars and sixty-two cents for everyone. Now we'll put them into these envelopes with the names on it, and each pick one."

Even though she had claimed that it didn't matter if they did pick each other, she was still worried, but there was no need. Her envelope had Joey on it and when Chandler surreptitiously showed her his, it was for Ross. When Phoebe picked hers and looked at it, she squealed.

"Hey, I've got Chandler! Yay, I know the perfect gift for you! Um, but you like tea, don't you?"


	21. Secret Christmas

Snow for Christmas. A white Christmas. It had started a day or two before Christmas Eve, continued to snow all through the holiday and now, on the evening of the 26th., it still hadn't stopped. Chandler loved how it looked from the windows of his apartment, how it added the final touch to all his preparations and how cozy and warm and yes, romantic the place would appear to Monica when she came back from her parents. When she came home – and right there was the snag. All that lovely snow that he could have just as easily done without, since it meant that her arrival would inevitably be delayed by it. All that snow that turned to mush and sludge as soon as it hit the streets, and the cold, the wetness and early darkness, plus all the masses of people that would try to make it back on that day too and only manage to clog up and congest all the routes, fill up all the trains and busses until utter chaos reigned, would only serve to delay her arrival and rob them of a lot of precious time together. So no matter how lovely and romantic it looked, thanks, but no thanks.

If only they had gotten themselves cell phones, then he could have called her. Or she him, if only to tell him where she was and how long it would take her to get back. But somehow they hadn't gotten around to it, there had always been something else that had been more important whenever they had some time together. Like doing it of course, whenever he thought about it, it seemed to him that they did spend the majority of their alone time with just that. True, as long as they were keeping their relationship secret, the periods of their alone time would always be limited and thus they always needed to make the best of it and postpone all the less important things to sometime in the future when they would have more time. Not necessarily the time when their secret would be out, no longer be a secret – if that ever happened – but on the other hand, very probably only then.

If they were ever found out, or maybe if they ever chose to reveal themselves to the others, announce their relationship to all of them – if that ever happened, then they would certainly have enough time for everything. Including getting cell phones which by that time they wouldn't really need any longer.

So should they really do that? Chandler stopped pacing his living room and stared unseeing at Chummy the dummy who was now wearing a full Santa costume and holding a tray on which he had stacked a dozen rented videos for Monica to choose from. If all went well they would have three days alone together, enough time for a video or two between their bouts of lovemaking. They had never spent so much time together at a stretch, it would be interesting to find out what they would get up to through all these days. Maybe they should talk about it then, about what it would be like to put an end to the secrecy and purposely and freely reveal their relationship to the world and everyone? Would that be better than to just wait until it came out by accident? He honestly couldn't decide which was better. Had it been long enough? Fourteen weeks, three and a half months, and it already felt like almost an eternity already. To be found out now that they had been doing it for so long felt – wrong somehow. Even stupid. How sweet it would be, how much more of a triumph it would feel to show everybody how blind they had been and enjoy the surprise. But were they really ready for that?

What was there to lose? A lot actually. The thrills most of all. The tickle, the tension, the fun. The urgency. The kicks he admittedly got out of it all – out of the waiting, the sneaking, the ever present fear of being caught in the act that made it all so much sweeter. All that would be gone, lost for good from the very moment their relationship was out in the open and they didn't have to hide any more. When there would be no more need for sneaking and hiding, catching breathless moments in the dark, stealing kisses when no one was watching, exchanging hot glances. That would be over then, and were they really ready for that? For a new phase in their relationship?

On the other hand, it had to end sometime, and what better time to end it but now, at the end of the year? They could start the New Year with a new phase of their relationship, start it with a long deep kiss right at midnight on New Year's Eve, for everyone to see. That felt so right. But was it?

Well, it certainly wasn't for him to decide. He needed to talk it over with Monica. And now it was getting late, almost going on for midnight, and she still had not come. Probably stuck in traffic somewhere, cold and wet in a train or subway and unable to get to where he was waiting for her, ready to supply hot cocoa and eggnog or anything else she might want at a moment's notice. If only she would come … He had been waiting for her since early afternoon, distracting himself first by getting everything ready, cleaning the flat as well as he could and arranging the Barcaloungers, pillows and blankets, plus some towels (because though she was still on her period, there was a slim chance she might be seduced to do it anyway) and candles. He didn't need to take care of the birds since Joey had taken them with him for his sisters' kids to play with (vehemently dismissing his concern that his folks might see them as a welcome addition to their Christmas feast) and found it quite a relief that he wouldn't have to worry about them being cooped up in Joey's room the whole time. When nothing was left to do he spent his time waiting for Monica in his Barcalounger, watching TV, or reading or just sitting there worrying. And dreaming about how it would go when she finally arrived.

She would be tired of course, overwrought and nervous as well as cold and uncomfortable. She would try to hold him off at first, wanting to get into her apartment first, to change there and most probably grab a shower too, not because it was what she really wanted but just felt it was absolutely necessary, simply the right thing to do, and it would be up to him to get her to change her mind, hold her close until she ceased struggling and kept still against him while he rubbed her back and gently pressed down on the small of her back which always hurt her during her period with the palm of his hand, warming it until she relaxed sighing with relief and pleasure, and then kiss her deeply and lingeringly, tightening his embrace. He was only wearing his sweats and as she clung to him she would feel him stirring against her, his soft warmth caressing and enveloping her while he would slide one of his hands down her hips to cup her buttocks and the other up to her shoulder blades to loosen her bra and caress her breasts. If he was very lucky, all of this together with the heat and coziness of the apartment, the savory smell of the cocoa and eggnog would be sufficient to seduce her into letting go, surrender herself to him, allow him to take care of everything, let him undress her and take her to his bed. It was more probable however that after the long and cold journey she would still need to go to the bathroom first, but this way would consent to use his and, if he had managed to arouse her sufficiently, hurry over it as much as possible and return to him even more eager than before. He would wait for her, towels and condoms, and maybe a hot drink at the ready, take hold of her as soon as she emerged again, pick her up and, ignoring her protests, lay her out on the bed, right under the mistletoe he had hung from his ceiling, and in the soft warm light of the candles undress her carefully and lovingly, rub her cold feet, kiss and caress his way up over her thighs and belly to her breasts, and then, still in his sweats, lay on top of her, hold her until she would be hot and drugged with desire, writhing and moaning, wrapping her arms and legs around him, grabbing at his back and buttocks. If he played it just right, she might even forget about the condom in her ecstasy, but it didn't really matter either way. He would kiss her as he entered her, sliding into the hot tight slippery wetness of her, panting and groaning, his head reeling and his heart pounding, feeling her body strain and buck against him as he tried to get closer and deeper still, everything around them narrowing down and tightening until the world just consisted of the two of them becoming one single convulsing ecstatic being, completing each other on their way to their huge, tremendous orgasm that would seize them at the same time, rolling over them and crushing them under it like a giant wave …

Of course it wouldn't be like that, reality always turned out different, but he liked to imagine that he would be able to make it work almost exactly like this dream, and imagining everything beforehand in such detail also made the time pass more quickly. The downside of it of course was that he himself got more and more excited as time wore on, until he almost couldn't contain himself any longer and had to distract himself as much as possible. And inevitably at some point use the bathroom himself, and of course it had to be just at that moment that Monica finally arrived.

However, all was not lost. When he rushed out he found her still waiting for him and jumping at him eagerly, breathless from her run up the stairs, her color high and her eyes shining. And yes, cold and wet too, but in high spirits and not as tired and worn out as he had imagined. She clung to him as he pressed against her, laughing delightedly when she felt him hardening immediately.

"Umm, waiting for me, have you? Ahh … ummm … oh god … I'm sorry it took so long … I just couldn't get away, that damn car wouldn't start –"

"Car? I thought you'd come by train. Or bus."

"No, that would have taken too long. Ross let me take the car after I promised to pick him up on New Year's eve. That is, if dad doesn't trust him with the Porsche then."

"Oh. I thought you had to be stuck in traffic in this weather."

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, right, there were a few tight places, but I made it okay. I know a few shortcuts."

"I should have known. I thought you'd be all cold and wet and tired and shivering, and I would have to cuddle and warm you up again, and feed you eggnog and marshmallows until –"

"There's eggnog? Oh my god, and cocoa too! And cookies – and …" Releasing him her eyes widened as she took in the festively decorated apartment, the food and drinks on the counter, the Barcalounger with pillows and blankets, and Chummy the dummy with his Santa costume and the tray of videos. "Oh my … look at all that! This is so perfect!"

"Really, do you like it?" He took hold of her coat as she got out of it and put it on the foosball table, then put his arms around her from behind to kiss her on the neck as she leaned back against him.

"It's lovely. Mmmh, I'm so glad I'm here finally. Oooh, what've you got here? 'Scrooged'? 'Nightmare before Christmas'? 'Trading Places'? Oooh, 'Sleepless in Seattle'! Oh wow, 'While you were sleeping' too! I really wanted to see that, but it's always rented out, especially now before the holidays!"

"I know, I couldn't get it either, so I bought it. I knew you had a thing for Bill Pullman."

"What? As if! No, you totally got it because you have a thing for Sandra Bullock."

"I have? Huh. Well, then it's perfect for both of us." When he slid his hand under her sweater she squealed softly and then turned in his arms to press against him.

"We'll watch it later then. After."

"After what? Bathroom? Shower? Bubble bath?"

"No … though bubble bath sounds nice, we can do that later …"

"After dinner?"

"No …."

"Hot cocoa? Or Eggnog?"

"Mmmmh – no …."

"Presents?"

"Umm, no … wait, presents?"

"But we can do those later too …"

"Shoot, I almost forgot! I've got yours in my bedroom, I'll have to get it …"

He held her back and pulled her close again, surreptitiously steering her towards his bedroom at the same time.

"No. Later. Afterwards will be soon enough."

.

Of course, afterwards he felt almost too drowsy and spent to do much more than kissing and lazily cuddling as they lay snuggled up to each other on his bed. While Monica naturally seemed to be even more charged and energized after their love making and soon got restless again. And impatient. While he was still gathering his strength just to sit up again, she was already jumping from the bed to examine the Christmas decoration in his bedroom, especially the mistletoe.

"That's such a great place for it! Oh, and those candles are so nice, where did you get them? Hey, don't get all sleepy on me, we haven't even started yet!"

"Ah, ummm … okay, okay … ah, oh god – no, I'm afraid it's no use." He let himself flop back on the bed with his arms flung wide. "I'm finished. You killed me. Sucked me dry. I'll never get up again … ah, ow! OOWWW! Stop it! Sto- um, mmmmh …" Then she was straddling him, giggling while she pressed her knees against his ribs and rubbed herself on him and tantalizingly held her breasts against his face.

"Come on, get up. Give me one sit-up!"

"Argh, um … oww…"

"Oh come on! One more try!"

"Argh – oh god … No, I can't. I'm telling you I'm finished."

"Come on! Get up! One … two … three …"

"Ha … oh god, I'm trying … I'm … oh yeah, I am, I'm getting up –"

"Um, that wasn't quite what I meant though …"

"Oh yeah?" He pulled her down until she was lying full length on him, squirming and squealing as he rubbed and squeezed her buttocks and gently slid a finger between her legs and inside her. She moaned into their kiss and then they both started to shiver as their desire took hold once more. He felt more than heard his heart pounding wildly in his ears and his breath rate speeding up until he thought he would pass out from the sheer aching excitement. But he didn't, on the contrary, the feel of her body seemed to have induced fresh energy into his torpidness, until he strained and bucked against her urgently, at last sitting up and holding her while she wrapped her legs around his waist. They finished more quickly this time, but just as intensely and sweetly as before, rocking to and fro on the bed until it was over once more and their breathing calmed again.

"Now I really need a shower."

"Yeah, me too. Yours or mine?"

She considered a bit. "Did you really clean yours?"

"I so did. Not much else to do, was there?"

"Oh you poor sweetie. Okay, yours then. I just have to get my things … Ow, oh god, I can hardly stand …"

"I think I'll just wait here – ow. Okay, okay."

When she got back from her apartment they took a shower together, soaping each other and making out in the hot water, getting into their sweats afterwards and snuggling up in his Barcalounger with hot eggnog and pancakes he'd heated in the microwave.

"Mmmhh, I really needed that. This is so good."

He kissed her on her temple, trailing his fingers through her hair. "Was it that bad at your parents?"

"Um. Not really. Just the usual. A bit more additional heat because I said I'd have to work tomorrow. But if I had stayed, my mother would have asked me by this time why I didn't have to work, or if the restaurant was closed over the holidays, or if I lost my job again ... I don't think they'll really miss me. And this … this is so much better. It's heaven actually."

"Yeah. It really is. Best Christmas ever."

"Really? Better than last year?"

"Last year? What about it? Oh, when I was with Kathy. Um. Yeah, I guess it was nice. But also weird."

"Why was it weird?"

"She had to work – yes, even on Christmas Eve – and then she went to see her parents and they had no room for me, and when she got back, Joey was back too … So, it wasn't bad, but couldn't hold a candle to this one, really."

"I'm so glad." She pressed close again and kissed him until he saw stars. "It's the best Christmas for me too. I can't even remember when I last had a Christmas with a boyfriend."

"Really? What about – no, that wasn't around Christmas, right. Hmm. What about Fun Bobby?"

She made a face. "Yeah, and that actually was the last time. And it wasn't bad – but …"

"Didn't you do it under your tree too?"

"Oh yes, we did, but unlike you he insisted on doing it right on the carpet. Actually right on the needles from the tree."

"Ouch."

"Right. And that was when he gave me that piggy bank."

"Ooouuch ...!"

"And that reminds me, what about the presents? Can we open them now?"

He made a great show of hesitating and considering until she cuffed him and jumped up impatiently, then they handed the boxes over and sat on the carpet in front of the TV to open them, teasing each other with waiting for the other to open it first, until he gave in and opened the small cardboard box.

"What is that – oh my god, a cell phone? You got me a cell phone?"

"Uh-huh!" Her eyes were shining. "It's prepaid, but you can change it to a contract if you like."

"But what about you? Did you get one for yourself?"

"No, I don't need one yet. I wanted you to have one so I can phone you when I'm home and don't need to use your land line or phone your office."

"Huh, yeah, that sounds great. But I want you to have one too. Actually I was thinking about cell phones earlier when I was waiting for you."

"We'll buy one next year then. Do you like this one?"

"It's perfect."

"Let's try it out!" She jumped up and rushed over to his phone to dial a number in it.

"So you already set it up – whoa!" He almost dropped the cell as it started to ring in his hand, with a ring tone that it took him a few seconds to place.

"Oh my god, it's 'London Calling'. Wow. Where do I have to – oh, right." He pushed the button and grinned delightedly at Monica who was still holding the phone. "It's – it's great. I really love it."

She put down his phone and came back to him, a blissful expression on her face. "I already saved the number on my speed dial. And my number is in the memory – there, see?"

"Wow. You've really thought of everything!"

"I know!"

"It's not really invisible though, is it?"

"Invisible?"

"I thought we had agreed on invisible presents. That the others could not see?"

"Oh. Right. I guess I forgot. Well, you could say you got it for yourself. You always buy things for yourself."

He sighed. "I guess I do at that."

"And you can keep it hidden. You know, keep it in your briefcase. That way the others won't ever see it. They never look into your briefcase."

"Sadly, that's true too. But what if you call me and they hear it ringing?"

"You can mute it or put it on vibrate. If you don't answer, I'll leave a message and you can call me back."

"Right. Okay, now it's your turn."

His box was a little bigger than hers. Monica made a halfhearted effort to remove the gift wrapping in one piece, but gave up almost immediately and tore it away.

"Ooooh, what a lovely case! Is that Chinese? And what's that?" She carefully took off the gilt envelope he had taped on top of the red lacquered box and pried it open.

"You said you wanted a gift certificate …"

"And for Victoria's Secret? Oh … oh my god, but that's … that's too much."

"No, it isn't. I want you to get something really, really …"

"Substantial?" She twinkled at him. "Then that won't be invisible either."

"Oh? A lot of stuff I saw there looked pretty much invisible to me. Almost non-existent. If you wear it so it doesn't show …"

She threw her arms around him and hugged him close. "It's perfect! Thank you so much!"

"But that's not all. Check out the box."

"What? Oh, of course. Wow, it's so beautiful! What's it for?" She lifted the lid and then laughed when she saw the cut-out of the Victoria's Secret logo taped on the inside of the lid with "Victoria's" crossed out and "London" written over it. And inside the box were –

"Your watch? The one that stopped?"

"Yes. And here's the condom that Joey gave me that night, the one we never used. And that fortune cookie message from our first laundry date."

"Oh my god. And a photo – oh, a photo of us in London! I don't remember that, when was this taken?"

"It's from the group photo at the Tower of London. I cut out the part with the two of us and had it enlarged."

"Wow. And this … Oh, a snow globe of London! That's soo sweet!"

He leaned towards her and kissed her. "I thought you could keep this in your place and we could put stuff in it. You know. Keepsakes."

Her gaze softened. "Oh, that's sooo …"

"Corny? Cute?" She winced.

"Yeah, but so sweet too. Oh, I could put my photo in it!"

"The naked polaroid? Absolutely. The best place for it."

Monica put down the box and threw her arms around him once more, pressing close.

"I love it so much! It's the best Christmas present ever. The best Christmas. Our secret Christmas."

"Our first Christmas and already the best. How are we ever going to top this next time?"

For a moment she froze and he almost wished he hadn't said that, then she just shook her head, dismissing the thought.

"We'll think of something. This is now, and this is perfect. Oh, I love it so much!" She picked up the snow globe again. "It's like that snow globe of Florence in the movie!"

"Actually, that's what made me think of it."

"Really? Oooh, can we watch that now?!"

"If you promise not to get all moony-eyed over Bill Pullman …"

"Ha! Well, if I do you can always get moony-eyed over Sandra Bullock."

He drew her close and kissed her again. "Deal."


	22. Secret New Year Kiss

Four whole days. They had four whole days to themselves where they could be alone together. Half a week. It was unbelievable.

Since Chandler had taken the days between Christmas and New Year off and she only had to work from five in the afternoon to ten in the evening when the restaurant closed, they had actually been able to spend most part of each of those days together, and pretty much undisturbed too. That alone was amazing in itself, and at first she had been tempted to put all that free time to the best use possible, planning for nearly every minute of it. Some of those plans had actually been realized, like the ice skating at Central Park and some long shopping tours where they just let themselves drift among the teeming crowds eager to spend their gratuities and gift certificates and/or exchange their actual gifts. The rest of the time however they had spent at home, either in his or her apartment, whichever felt best, watching TV or movies, eating, doing laundry, taking baths together, and endlessly cuddling on the sofa or the bed, making out and talking. It amazed her how much they always found to talk about and how deeply satisfying it was to be able to just lie in bed or laze around on the couch or his Barcalounger and talk without any danger of being overheard or interrupted. She had never before been able to even imagine how relaxing and amazing just talking could be.

And, of course, in between all the endless talking, and cuddling, and lazing, and making out they had sex.

It was in the night of the third day when Chandler came out with a rather startling suggestion. After she'd returned from work they had watched a movie in his apartment and afterwards retired to his bedroom for an urgent and passionate romp, after which they of course got to talk again.

"Let me get this straight. You really want to tell them that we're together? Now?"

"Well not right now. At the New Year. I've thought about this and I think it would be fun – you know, at midnight, when the ball drops – to drop this on them."

"You're serious about this? Not joking?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't joke about this. Well, not now."

Monica stared hard into his eyes, trying to detect a twinkle, or a subtle shift that would tell her he wasn't as serious about this as he claimed to be. But there really was nothing to see – that was, if the amazing blue of his eyes and the frank and appreciative way he returned her gaze that made her feel all tingly and excited, didn't count of course – and she involuntarily caught her breath.

"Wow. You really think this is a good idea?"

"Well, don't you?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "I don't know. I'm not sure. To be honest, I – I haven't really thought about this."

"Why not?"

"Why? Oh, um, I guess I thought they would find us out sometime. And until then …"

"But it's been fifteen weeks now!"

"Fourteen and a half."

"Okay. Almost fifteen weeks. Isn't that long enough?" She averted her eyes, biting her lips. "It's not, isn't it? Not for you, am I right?"

"N-no. That is, I don't know … I mean, this is still so much fun, and we got so good at it …"

Chandler sat up abruptly, wagging an accusing finger at her.

"So that's it, isn't it? You want to see how far we can take this. How long until we're caught."

She shrugged helplessly. "I guess so. I mean, this really is going so well! Exactly why do you want to end it now? I mean, where is the fun in that? So we tell them, and then they all know, and once they get over the surprise, it's – well, over. Business as usual."

"Yes, but – it would be so much fun. Just think of their faces!"

"Okay. So they'll be totally surprised. They won't be able to believe it at first. Probably be mad at us too – Ross definitely will be –"

"Oh, yeah, you're right, I totally forgot Ross. But still. I'd just love to see their faces when they find out. When we tell them."

"But Chandler, don't you think the surprise would be even greater if they found out by themselves?"

"If they find out. I'm beginning to think they won't ever do that. Maybe we're too good now." Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "I think I know why you really don't want to tell them."

"Oh? And why?"

"Because it would be like admitting defeat. As if you were afraid of getting caught."

"What?"

"It's still like a game to you, isn't it? And if you break it off like that you don't win." Chandler lay back again on his pillow and closed his eyes, grinning. Monica sighed.

"You're right." When his eyes flew open again, unbelieving, she cuffed him. "I don't want to lose at this. I … it's not the only reason, but you're right, it would seem like losing. Plus, what exactly would it gain us if we told them? What would be the point?"

"Not the only reason? What else is there?"

"Well … you know. The fun for one thing."

"The fun?" When she bent over him, her hair brushing over his face, he hooked an arm around her neck to pull her closer. "Oh the fun! Yeah, I guess that would be over. Absolutely no more fun. Just boring routine. Kinda like 'oh honey, not tonight, I have a headache' or 'um that was great, can I go to sleep now' …"

"Well, not that bad, but – a little, yeah. I think – and I really hope I'm wrong, but I think if we told them and didn't have to sneak around anymore, and lie all the time, you would get – comfy."

"Comfy? Me? You really think that?"

"Um, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would. BUT –" he tightened his grip when she started up, staring at him "but I won't, not ever, for the simple reason that you won't let me."

She chuckled with relief. "You're right again. How did you know that?"

"Remember when you were my fitness coach, how you kept pushing me? You never let up, never let me have a moment's peace. That's how I know."

"Oh. Yeah, I remember." She also remembered quite well how neatly he had tricked her into losing her drive and letting him go when he couldn't take it anymore, but decided to let that go. No point in reminding him of her past defeats. She really didn't want to dwell on that memory anyway, not ever, and especially not now that his hand was slowly sliding up her back, his fingertips lingering over each vertebrae of her spine while he stretched his thumb sideways to tease the side of her breast. Instead she lowered her head to let her lips brush teasingly across his, catching his lower lip between her teeth. Then his other arm snaked around her hips and he started to stroke and cup her buttocks.

"Um … mmmh … oh god, Mon, I really don't think I'll ever get too comfy with you. It's … it just doesn't seem possible. I wouldn't know how."

"That's good to know …" She hooked her leg over him, rubbing herself on his abdomen and then against his growing erection. When he started breathing harder, she felt her heart beating faster too and she pressed her lips against his urgently. For a little while they continued like that, slowly moving against each other, only interrupting their kisses to breathe and then latching on again. He started to probe gently into her crack until his fingertip arrived at her entrance and dipped into her, expertly teasing and stimulating while he slid and wriggled deeper and deeper, making her squirm and moan loudly.

He was right, she simply couldn't imagine them losing this particular kind of fun ever, no matter if their relationship was secret or not. Not if it still was this amazing even after fourteen weeks of doing it pretty much nonstop. This was one thing she felt pretty sure she would never have to worry about. Especially now with her desire mounting until it made her tremble and writhe on him, wrapping herself around him, when they were so much in sync with one another, reading and reacting to each other's signals almost automatically by now, even if they were only half aware of sending or receiving them. Like now when in almost in the same moment she had decided she didn't want to remain on top he heaved her up and flipped her over, kissing her and unpacking a condom at the same time. Those few seconds it took him to put the condom against the tip of his penis and unroll it using just two fingers, without once breaking the kiss, just allowed her enough time to marvel at how good he'd already become at this. And not just at this. Also the well-practiced way he then stretched out over her, immediately getting into the exact position it needed to enter her without any assistance from her and then pushing into her in one long, drawn out, controlled movement that took her breath away.

No, it wasn't any worry about losing this that made her dismiss his idea right away. So what if he did get a little comfy? It would be only natural, once the honeymoon phase was over, and she could - and would - see to it that he was still kept on his toes as much as necessary. And the other reason, that their voluntary coming out would be like admitting defeat – well, she was sure there were ways and means to stage it in such a way it would turn out to be a triumph instead of giving up. That didn't worry her too much either.

But there was yet another reason that spoke against it. One she could not bring herself to discuss with him, because she knew it would be pointless. Or even dangerous. Because, once the truth was out and their friends were over their surprise and shock, the questions would start. The discussions. Everything they had would be questioned as to how serious, how stable, how meaningful they were, what this was based on and where they were going. Questions that they had managed to avoid between themselves so far, mostly because there had never been enough time or occasion for a pertinent discussion, but also because it still felt too early for that. They were not ready yet, had not yet reached that crucial point. If they revealed their relationship now, she was sure it would take all but a few hours until someone – maybe Ross, most probably Rachel – would praise their commitment to each other, how wonderful it all was and how meant to be, forever and always, and in the same breath wonder how remarkable and unbelievable it seemed that he of all people was so willing and committed to their relationship, and this would make Chandler immediately doubt himself again and inevitably panic. And then dig in his heels and try to back up again.

It just needed more time. The more time they spent together, the easier it would be for him to keep cool, secure in the knowledge that he was on the right path, never giving way to those false doubts and anxieties he was so prone to.

She was very sure that they would arrive at this point. Eventually.

But it really needed more time. A lot more time and a lot more of what they had been doing all through these fifteen weeks and now were doing once more, and would continue to do for a long time. Because it felt so good. And so right. The way he kept her in place with his weight, pressing her into the mattress until she could hardly move, and even held her arms down and away until all that remained for her was to lie still and allow herself to be fucked good and hard, with no control whatsoever. It wasn't often she wanted it this way and it still amazed her that whenever she did, how accurately he would read and fulfill her desire. And moreover that by this time he had become as good at that as she had with him. And that they would continue to get even better, although it almost didn't seem possible that it could get any better than this.

Later – she didn't know how much later and didn't care – they were lying close together, holding each other, legs and feet entwined, and when she could tell by his breathing that he was slowly drifting away, she reached behind her to pull the covers up and over them. He grunted appreciatively at this, hooking one arm around her neck to pull her close and kiss her.

"Um, Mon …?"

"Mmmmh?"

"If we don't tell them at the New Year, can we still kiss at midnight?"

"Oh absolutely. In fact I think we have to."

"I think so too. But what if they find out from that?"

"They won't."

"Sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Mmmh. Good."

.

She was indeed sure. Sure that they could pull it off, that it would be easy actually. Hadn't they done much crazier things already and gotten away with it? So what if they kissed each other right in front of them, under their noses, it didn't mean anything as long as they did it at midnight when the ball dropped and everybody did it. After all it was what you did then, for good luck and because it was nice and fun. They had all done it, in all the years before. In a way it was almost obligatory. So what could go wrong?

Except it started to look like it wouldn't work after all. Even though she had really tried everything. All through the evening she had kept on about the subject of New Year kissing, about how nice it was to start the New Year with a kiss, how everybody should do this, should even line up a partner already, how much such old and established customs should be honored in her opinion, in fact had kept almost raving about it at every possible moment until Phoebe asked her pointedly if she maybe wasn't getting enough. By the time she realized that her obsession was getting rather too obvious, still nobody seemed willing or even ready to go along. It was quite maddening.

And the time passed much too quickly. Now it was already getting on for midnight, only a few minutes to go actually. On the TV Jay Leno was already asking Dick Clarke how people were doing on Time Square. If only he would say something about kissing, but no, it was all about entertainment and the ball dropping. She looked around her living room where some of her guests were actually standing close enough to each other so they would be able to follow her example, but then how would it look to Ross, Phoebe and Rachel if the two of them were the first to do this? Wouldn't it seem too obvious? It might work, but then again, it might not, especially if they were not distracted sufficiently. Take Ross for example, already busy counting the seconds from a hundred down and grinning goofily. He'd probably be too wrapped up in this to even notice them or think about what it was that he was seeing – but what if she was wrong and he wasn't and would after all? And what if Phoebe saw them? She had her back turned right now, but Monica knew from experience that at times like these it was as if she had eyes in the back of her head, and she would never be able to ignore it if it happened right before her eyes. And Rachel who had just gone to top up her drink, surely she would never miss something like this? At the very least she would notice that their kiss was not as casual and friendly as it should be. And she didn't want a kiss that looked casual and meaningless. If they really did this, they would do it properly, or not at all.

And now, 90 seconds until the ball dropped, it started indeed to look like it was going to be not at all. Chandler was standing close to her, biting his lip and shifting from one foot to the other, and while she was secretly glad that he cared so much about this, she was close to despairing. What could they do? Try to move into a quiet corner where they wouldn't be seen and then wait a little until everybody looked at the TV and cheered at the stroke of midnight? But that would be wrong. They needed to kiss at that exact moment, and not in secret but out in the open where everybody could see, and it had to be a really good kiss, or it wouldn't mean anything.

And Chandler, bless him, seemed to feel the same way. In fact it was the resigned expression on his face that made her consider going for it regardless, and to hell with the risk. If they didn't do this, they would regret it forever. She had just opened her mouth to tell him this when Joey sauntered over, blowing on his squawker and grinning goofily.

"All right! Here we go! 1999! The year of Joey!"

If only it was this easy.

"We're very happy for you." Chandler commented dryly and Joey's face fell at his dour expression.

"What's the matter?!"

"We wanted to kiss at midnight, but nobody else is going to, so …"

She would do it though, she just had to. And hope it would turn out all right. Amazingly Joey seemed to understand, and even eager to help them. It was nice of him, of course, but wouldn't it even make matters worse?

"All right, I'll take care of it."

"Wait! Joey! It's 36 seconds till Midnight. What are you going to do?

"Will you just trust me?"

Oh god. Oh god. Trust Joey? But then, it couldn't get worse than it already was. And he was already approaching Ross who was still counting out loud and hopping up and down with it.

"33! 32! 31!"

"Ross! Ross! Ross, listen! Who are you kissing at midnight, huh? Rachel or Phoebe?

"What?"

"Well you gotta kiss someone, can't kiss your sister."

That got his attention – and incidentally confirmed her earlier fear that Ross at least would be sure to notice if they kissed.

"Well, who's gonna kiss my sister?"

"Chandler." That actually had Ross wince.

"Awww, man! Really?"

"Dude, who would you rather have kiss your sister, me or Chandler?"

"That's a good point." It was unbelievable.

"Oh well, since I have that whole history with Rachel, I guess Phoebe."

"Okay, great!" And Joey already rushed over to where Phoebe was standing. Monica sensed Chandler tensing beside her and drawing in his breath. 25 seconds. 24. 23.

"Pheebs! Pheebs! Ross wants to kiss you at midnight!"

Phoebe tittered. "So obvious! Why doesn't he just ask?"

19 seconds. 18 seconds. 17 seconds. And Joey had already turned to Rachel.

"Rach! Rach! Listen, I'm gonna kiss you at midnight."

"What?!"

"Well, everyone's gotta kiss someone. You can't kiss Ross - got the history."

"So?"

"So? Who would you rather have kiss you, me or Chandler?"

"Oh, good point!"

He had done it, Joey of all people, and in thirty seconds even, just like that. She saw Phoebe and Ross coming together, smiling at each other good-naturedly while they waited for the right moment, and Joey winking at Rachel and moistening his lips. She still wouldn't, couldn't believe it and neither could Chandler judging by his baffled expression, but it was true, the miracle had happened and now there was no time left to stand and gape, they had to get ready for The Kiss.

Three seconds. She got close to Chandler who kept his eyes on the TV where the camera zoomed in on the ball, and put her hand lightly on his arm.

Two seconds. Chandler returned her smile, cupping her elbow with his hand and though he appeared quite calm and casual she could feel the tension in him by the way his fingers tightened on her and his breath started to come short.

One second.

The ball dropped. There was cheering and yelling and the noise of fireworks exploding.

"Happy New Year!"

And Chandler swung around to her and pulled her close to him while she wrapped her arms around his neck, both closing their eyes as their lips met and fused in exactly the right moment, the very first second of the New Year. And for a long long moment time seemed to stand still, everything freezing around them as if they were encased in a bubble where nothing else mattered except the two of them holding each other close and melting into one. She felt his body fitting itself to hers just as she molded herself against him, feeling his warmth spread over to her from his hands on her waist and his chest, his scent in her head, his breath on her cheek and the feel of his lips on hers, pressing on hers gently, but firmly, still chastely closed and yet so seductively promising. It went to her head like strong wine, intoxicating and exhilarating, until her heartbeat seemed to thump in her ears like a jungle drum and it seemed like she would never be able to breathe again, just remain frozen in that one moment for all the time …

Until it ended and she felt his lips lifting again from hers as he raised his head a little, their eyes opening at the same time to meet each other's gaze.

"Happy New Year" he said softly, the corners of his mouth lifting in that tender half smile she loved so much to see on him, and as her hands slid down his shoulders she wished nothing more than to kiss him again and keep kissing him forever.

"Happy New Year" she said, putting as much passion and fervor in it as she could. Yes, this was it. The New Year. Their very own New Year.

They had done it, and so had the others, never noticing a thing, so they were still safe. Safe for at least a little while – or a long while, if she had anything to say about it. But it didn't really matter. The main thing was that they had pulled this off, put another layer on their relationship, added another brick to its foundation. Claimed this New Year as their very own and put their seal on it with a kiss. Whatever would happen now, wherever they would go from here, there was nothing that could take this away from them anymore.

Their very first kiss in this New Year.


	23. Resolutions and Consequences, part 1

They had kissed. Really kissed, at midnight, right at the drop of the ball, in front and full sight of all their friends, and it had been the real thing too, intense and meaningful instead of a mere friendly brush across the lips. In a way it had been a promise, a wonderful prospect of things to come, both in the immediate and more distant future, in the whole New Year that lay before them. And the fact that they had managed to pull it off one more time without getting caught made him feel almost giddy with happiness. True, they had to thank Joey for most of that, but still, they had made it work, and now it seemed that there was nothing they wouldn't be able to do if they wanted to. After that kiss, what could possibly go wrong?

And now the New Year was almost already three hours old and it was only the six of them in Monica's living room after the last of the other guests had finally left. Just a half hour or one hour tops more before they would break it up and leave, and after that maybe one more hour that he would have to wait until Ross had fallen asleep and Monica finished cleaning and straightening up before he could sneak over for their very own secret New Year's celebration in her bedroom. In the dark, under the covers, in silence, but no less intense and hot for that. No sir, on the contrary. Just imagining it, how he would sneak into the apartment as quietly as a ghost and let himself into Monica's bedroom in the dark, feeling his way to her bed and to her, as she was waiting under the covers, naked and hot, her nipples already hard, condom at the ready for him to slip over himself the very moment he arrived at her bed and in her arms, rolling on top of her and sliding into her in one smooth motion, kissing her deeply at the same time … it gave him goosebumps all over, and it was all he could do just to not get an erection. It also made him realize that he had missed that a little in the last week, and also that with his idea of coming out and revealing themselves to the others today he had been a little ... hasty. Premature. Yes, the last four days had been truly amazing, and yes, they had had such a great time alone together, talking and laughing, making out and cuddling, sleeping and waking up together, having sex at any time and as long as they wanted to with no need for secrecy. He had never imagined that it could be like this, that he could be alone with Monica for so long at a time without anyone interfering or interrupting them and that it would all be so harmonious and enjoyable. He had even been vaguely afraid at first that one of them would eventually pick a fight over some stupid thing or other, simply because it had all been too good to be true, but everything had worked out so marvelously well that he almost found it hard to believe it hadn't been a dream after all.

But with all that happiness he had only been too aware that this period of grace was limited and that it would end on New Year's Eve, and it was this awareness that had caused them to take extra care that nothing would spoil their enjoyment of it, and also to make the most of it while they could. But right there was the snag. If their time alone hadn't been limited, if there had been no need to make the most of it, would it have been quite as wonderful and harmonious? As much as he wanted to think it would, he was only too aware that it was a sweet illusion at best. In a way those four days had been like a vacation, a time to relax and gather strength for the time afterwards with their continued secret meetings in the dark. And although he had really wanted – or thought he had – to give up all that secrecy and enter a new phase of their relationship, he now realized that maybe they weren't all that ready for it as much as they needed to be. Because, when it really came down to it, those four days didn't mean a thing. They just meant that they were capable of enjoying themselves if they were alone together, without any worries, intrusions from outside or interruptions by their friends spoiling or limiting that enjoyment.

But what if they had to carry on all that with all those things in the picture? He wasn't quite sure about Monica, but the longest he himself had been able to keep a relationship going had been almost exactly four months. Granted, it had not been his fault that it hadn't worked any longer with Janice, but he had to admit that it often had needed more work and effort than he had thought possible. On both sides. If he really wanted to top that with Monica, a few weeks, maybe a month or two, of further secrecy would give them an even more solid foundation. To make a fools rush into the real thing now without being sure that they were really ready would be, well, foolish to say the least. And dangerous.

Plus in one other aspect Monica had been right, as usual. All this hot desire, the excitement and blind urgency of their secret coupling in the dark would if not be lost entirely – for the life of him he could not imagine that sex with Monica could ever not be exciting anymore – but at least lose some of its intensity, it's spice. Apparently a big part of the fun lay in the fact that they had sex without anyone knowing about it. So how would it feel if he met with Monica fully aware of the fact that Rachel was in the next room and, once awake, would know that it was him having sex with her, and that he would see it in her expression in the next morning? Would it really not put a damper on things? Let alone Ross … no, it really seemed as if they were not ready for that. Not now, and not for quite some time yet. What they had now was still much too good to give up. Because once they gave it up there would be no turning back. They would never be able to experience it all again as it was now, so why should they end it when it was still so much fun? Shouldn't they milk it for all it was worth? Especially while they still were so good at it?

He could hardly wait any longer. If only the others would hurry up already and call it a night. But no, nobody seemed tired yet or inclined to leave. Especially Ross seemed quite unable to come down from his high, pacing the living room with his squawker and getting in everyone's way. Well, not in his for that matter, since he was installed quite comfortably on the couch next to Joey, trying to finish his beer in peace. But Monica was of course already busy with collecting all the glasses and bottles, with Rachel and Phoebe helping her almost in spite of themselves, and didn't take too kindly to her brother's antics, until he finally took up position in front of the TV where he was out of her way – for the time being at least – and could rave about all the good things that the New Year was bound to hold in store for him.

"You know what? I'm gonna go out on a limb and say no divorces in '99!"

"But your divorce isn't even final yet." Leave it to Rachel to point out the obvious and to Ross to not let it put a damper on his enthusiasm. Or his fervor with the squawker which started to sound like it was on its last legs – make that blows – already.

"Just the one divorce in '99! You know what, I am gonna be happy this year. I am gonna make myself happy!"

Ugh, the image he got from that …. "So, do you want us to leave the room, or …?"

But Ross serenely chose to ignore both his comment and Joey's open amusement.

"Every day I am gonna do one thing that I haven't done before. **That,** my friends, is my New Year's resolution!"

If that 'new thing' included finding a new place to live and finally moving out, he would make all of them happy, but somehow he couldn't see that happening. That was the thing about resolutions, they never stood the test of reality. He couldn't even remember the last time he had made a resolution, let alone kept it until the morning after. Resolutions were for immature wusses.

"Ooh! That's a good one! Mine is to pilot a commercial jet." Leave it to Phoebe to come up with something that ridiculous without batting an eyelid. He knew really that it was futile, but simply couldn't resist.

"That's good one too, Pheebs. Now all you have to do is find a planeload of people whose resolution is to plummet to their deaths."

"Maybe your resolution is to not make fun of your friends, especially the ones who may soon be flying you to Europe for free on their own plane!" Gee, thanks, Pheebs. Why stop at Europe though? He'd thought the moon or Mars would be more to her taste …

When Monica suddenly joined into the discussion, he was surprised to say the least – though a lot of it had to do with the way she leaned over the backrest of the couch that gave him a nice view of her cleavage.

"She has a better chance of sprouting wings and flying up your nose than you do of not making fun of us!"

Erm, what? What was wrong with his jokes? What would they do without his jokes? Didn't everybody need a good laugh now and then? Funny, he would have thought everybody had realized that by now. But Ross didn't seem to think so either.

"In fact, I'll bet you 50 bucks that you can't go the whole year without making fun of us. Eh, you know what, better yet? A week!"

A whole week without his jokes to lighten the mood, relax them, put everything into perspective? How would they ever get through that? Well, maybe it was time he tried to keep a resolution. If only to show them all how it was done AND how much they needed his jokes. Plus, if it got Ross' down from his high, so much the better.

"I'll take that bet my friend. And you know what, paying me the 50 bucks could be the "new thing you do that day!" When Ross just looked at him and held out his hand, he winced. "And it starts right now!" Whew, close call. Apparently he was so used to joking that by now it had become his second nature. Well, first nature. Or just nature. But he could do it. No problem whatsoever. He just had to mentally flip a switch to deactivate that wire between the joke center in his brain and his mouth. Or maybe between his ears and the joke center. Or both. All of them pitching in now on the subject of resolutions actually provided him with a great opportunity for getting some practice in that. Especially Joey's desire to learn how to play the guitar and Phoebe's offer to help him.

"Well, you know those special skills I have listed on my resume? I would love it if one of those was true."

Yes, too bad he had only listed such stupid things like tap dancing, archery, horseback riding, switching to any accents at will … instead of the things he was really good at. Like falling asleep under the shower. Eating three pizzas at once. Breaking window panes with his snoring … He realized just in the nick of time that he'd already opened his mouth and snapped it shut, clenching his teeth and closing his eyes for good measure.

Clearly he needed more practice. And just had to hope he wouldn't have to witness Phoebe trying to teach Joey.

But at least it seemed he wasn't the only one who had trouble with their resolutions. Monica's resolution to be less obsessed with being neat and clean was immediately challenged – and bested -by Rachel. Whose triumph was only short lived though. She of all people should have known that you couldn't call out Monica just like that.

"Hey Rach, maybe your resolution should be to gossip less."

"I don't gossip!"

Yeah right. And Joey believed in diets and Ross hated dinosaurs … When he shut his mouth again, his teeth clicked almost audibly. Fortunately for him no one noticed since they were all laughing at Rachel.

"All right. Ok. Fine! My new year's resolution will be not to _gossip! _Easy though."

"Easy? You have never kept a resolution!"

"Of course I have!"

"Ok, let's see how you did last year ..."

"No-no. Not my diary. You cannot read my diary." But Monica had already retrieved it and proceeded to demonstrate to all that at least according to her diary Rachel's past was a big white blank.

"All right - all right I'll prove to you that I can keep it this time. No more gossiping!"

Aw, without his jokes and her gossiping, Ross' whining and Joey's delusions, would their life even be bearable anymore?

This time he had to almost bite his tongue in his effort to keep the joke in.

.

By the time he considered it safe to sneak over to Monica's, it was almost 5 a.m. Both Ross and Joey had proven nearly indefatigable in their efforts to taunt him into letting a joke escape, and after he had ostensibly retired to his room, the two of them had continued watching TV for what seemed like hours. If it hadn't been for his nagging desire for Monica that kept him awake, he would have called it a night and gone to sleep. But it wouldn't let off, even when it occurred to him on his way to the door that Monica had probably given up on him long since and would not take too kindly to him interrupting her sleep. It made him hesitate for a moment in the hallway, until the cold and the dark silence persuaded him to give it at least a try.

Monica's apartment in the faint light from the streetlamps under the big window looked as it always did at night – so neat and quiet it almost seemed as if nobody lived there. There was nothing to show that only hours before people had been partying and celebrating the New Year there. He couldn't help wondering how long it had taken Monica to get it that way and how tired she had to be now, and that thought almost made him turn back again. But then he noticed that her bedroom door wasn't quite shut but only lean-to, which meant that she still expected him to come, so he tiptoed silently across the living room and pushed the door open as gently as possible. After he'd shut it securely behind him, Monica's bedroom was almost completely dark, but after all that time he knew every inch of it and could have found his way to her bed blindfolded and with his hands bound on his back. Two heartbeats later he had arrived at the edge of her bed where the sound of her breathing told him that she had scooted over to the far side, presumably so he could join her more easily, lying with her back to him, and also that she was fast asleep. Feeling very cold now he took off his socks and urgently and yet carefully got under the covers, almost groaning at the welcoming warmth. His penis that had shrunk to a small cold nub suddenly started to unfold and expand again, pressing against the fabric of his boxers. Monica didn't stir until he nestled close against her back and wrapped his arms around her, soaking up her body heat. Then she started up almost violently, nearly elbowing him in the ribs.

"Wha – ah, ummpf … mmm – _Chaaanndler _…!"

"Shshsh! It's okay. Sh. I'm sorry … Oooh. Um. Oh god, you're so hot …" At this she giggled helplessly, and turned in his arms to face him.

"I thought you wouldn't come anymore … Oh god, what time is it?"

"Still not midnight in Alaska … well, Hawaii at least." When she hooked a leg over his waist, he drew her over him, sliding his hands under her nighty. "Soooo … where did we leave off exactly?!"

.

When he let himself out of #20, darting across the hallway tired and shivering, and cautiously opened the door to his apartment, he couldn't help grinning blissfully. They were back at the game, as good as or even better than before. The New Year was off to a great start indeed.

He still thought so when he and Joey entered Central Perk on the following afternoon and met Ross there, back early from his and Monica's visit to their parents and almost bursting with joy at his success in securing a date – and with a quite stunning woman too. If only her name hadn't been rather stunning too, if for quite another reason …

"Elisabeth ... Hornswoggle?"

"That's right, uh, Elizabeth …Hooorrn-swogg-le ..!"

Right, did you ask her if by any chance she was Jim Henson's godchild – ooops, close call again. And now both Ross and Joey were grinning openly at him. Conniving bastards. This was all a conspiracy. No woman on earth had a name like that. "Horn-swoggle." Oh god, it almost hurt saying it. Weren't they shooting a new Muppet Movie around here right now? He bit down hard on that joke just as it tried to slip out sideways as it were, and felt himself growing hot under his collar.

"You all right Chandler? Is there something funny about that name?"

"No. No, I just think that maybe I - I'd heard it somewhere before." Yeah, like maybe on Sesame Street - - - oh great. Now he was getting a headache. Must be the pressure from all those accumulated jokes. Maybe he should run to the bathroom and try to get them out there, throw up jokes instead of just – throwing up. Maybe that would help too.

And as if all that wasn't enough, here was Phoebe. Maybe if she made a joke about the name it would relieve the pressure a bit – but no, she only laughed at it and then joined the general gloating over his misery.

"Hornswoggle?! Ooh, this must be killing you!"

Yes. It did. Very slowly, one untold joke at a time. And of course Ross couldn't resist one final shot.

"I haven't told you her middle name ..."

"Well - don't - just don't!"

Maybe if he wired his mouth shut? Stopped up his ears? Took to wearing sunglasses?

Ah, thank god, that was Ross leaving. Now it was only Joey and Phoebe, that couldn't get too bad. Phoebe rarely made fun of Joey, probably because she usually felt rather protective about him. So maybe he got a breather here …

"Oh no-no-no, you don't touch the guitar!"

Or not. Learning to play the guitar without actually touching it. Wonderful. Here he was, witnessing a truly original approach to guitar lessons, something that comedians everywhere would sell their unborn children to witness and here he was, condemned to neutral jokefree comments and silence.

No amount of money was worth that.

"Now, I don't know the actual names of the chords but umm, I - I made up names for the way my hand looks while I'm doing them. So then, this is Bear Claw. Okay … Turkey Leg and Old Lady."

Wow, did you ever try your hand at shadow play too? Aaargh … it felt as if he actually had a cramp in his throat there.

"What an interesting approach to guitar instruction" he croaked desperately. "You know some might find it amusing, I myself find it regular."

Of course they didn't buy it, probably because he sounded so hoarse as he said it. Must be all those untold jokes getting stuck in his throat, itching and screaming to get out …

Maybe a coffee would help. Or maybe Gunther could give him something for headaches that would relieve the joke pressure too. Like Alka-Seltzer only Joke-Seltzer.

.

If he had actually expected Monica to take pity on him, he got bitterly disappointed. When he finally made it to her bedroom the following night (after he'd almost given up on Ross falling asleep, and then still in the living room very nearly got surprised by Rachel heading for the bathroom and only saved himself with a quick dive behind the easy chair) he found her still awake, but completely preoccupied with finding a new resolution for herself and nearly beating herself over the head with it.

"Sh, quiet, Rachel's still up!"

"What? Uh, don't worry about her. She thinks I'm talking with myself."

"In multiple voices?!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that a joke? Just because we're alone doesn't mean you can take a break from your resolution –"

"When have I ever made a joke about you?"

"Seriously?"

"Well … not lately at least?"

"You mean since we're – oh wow. Really? You haven't made fun of me since we got together?"

"Well – at least I tried not to."

"That's so sweet! And how about now, how are you keeping up? Ross told me you nearly choked earlier –"

"Yeah. But I'm getting used to it."

"Really? Already? Tell me another one."

"Oh? Right, how about -"

"Ha, nearly caught you there!"

"Um. No, its ok, you're right. And thank you, you just gave me an idea."

"An idea for what?"

"How to keep from joking when something funny happens. It just needs a little – discipline. Otherwise piece of cake." Actually Phoebe had given him the idea earlier. If someone else got in a joke first, it would at least release some of the pressure. Or so he hoped.

"Well good luck with that." Monica rolled on her back again and screwed her eyes shut. "Now how about you give me an idea in return? I need a resolution! Any resolution!"

"How about always warming your boyfriend's cold feet …?"

"Oh, haha. Besides, mine are cold too, and I don't see you trying to warm them."

"I thought they must be hot like the rest of you …"

"Ha! Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister."

"Hmpf. Let's see … Wow, how did you get them so cold? Maybe you should put on some socks?"

"What? Ugh. How would that look if I …. Wait."

"What? Do you want my socks now? Because I still need those –"

"No. No, I just had an idea for my new resolution!"

"Isn't it a bit late for that – ouch. No, of course, that's great, what is it?"

"I'll show you tomorrow. I still have to think about it. Now about those feet?"

"Already on it … mmmh … are you cold here too? And here …?"

"I – I don't know … mmmmh … could be … ow. OW! Oh my god - OOUUW- wha, um-" He managed to put his hand on her mouth just in time to stop her screaming. Then it was wild squirming and scuffling for some minutes until he had pinned her securely enough beneath him to enable him to grab a condom with his one free hand while she wrapped her arms around him and fused her mouth to his. He fumbled the condom, nearly dropping it, slid it over himself and pushed into her urgently, his heartrate speeding up until he could feel it hammering in his throat. And once more everything else in the world ceased to matter, vanished completely as he focused on her, her body moving along with his, her taste, her smell, her feel. It seemed an eternity later and yet as if no time had passed at all when he felt her nails digging into his back as her body tensed against his and then slowly relaxed again. Just as he wondered how much longer it was going to take him, she pressed her thighs against his hips almost immediately, tightening her vaginal walls around him until he could only jerk against her spasmodically and had to claw at the bedsheets to keep from shouting.

And then it was over and they let go of each other, panting and moaning.

"Whew. Oh my. Well, I'm definitely not cold anymore. You?"

"Roasting!"

.

Turned out Monica's new resolution was … taking pictures. Pictures of everyone and everything, as natural and lifelike as possible. No posing and saying cheese necessary, just putting up with being photographed, over and over again, relentlessly, from every angle, in any position, in every place imaginable, as soon as he and Joey had entered #20. Under different circumstances he would have asked her if she wanted to take a picture of him in the bathroom too, but fortunately Joey beat him to it.

"No! No bathroom photos. And come to think of it, I don't want photos of you stuffing yourself either! Or getting crummies everywhere when I just cleaned the kitchen … nooooh! Stop it!"

"Alright, relax Mon! Want to go to the movies?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I can't, I'm looking after Ben tonight. Ross' got this big date, remember?" She noticed the consternation in Chandler's expression and grinned. "He said, he'd be back around 7 to take him back to Carol's."

Joey rolled his eyes and groaned as he realized that he would be barred from the apartment, and worse, from his TV chair, for at least an hour that night, but Chandler ignored him, smiling soppily at Monica as she joined him on the couch and picked up her photo album to check for persons that were still underrepresented there. If they played it right, they could "do their laundry" for at least an hour this evening already, practically under the very noses of the others, and in his bedroom for a change. It would mean that they had already done it three times in the New Year when it wasn't even 36 hours old – that had to be a kind of record. And on a weekend too, when usually they didn't get to do it on the weekends that often.

And here were Phoebe and Rachel back from their shopping spree. There was a critical moment when Rachel tried to deliver her gossip news in a different form, and then another slightly worse even when Joey demonstrated to Phoebe that he had indeed 'nailed the Old Lady', but he managed to get past it, and without too much damage either. If you didn't count the bite marks on the inside of his cheeks that is.

Phoebe smelling the strings on Joey's hands nearly undid him again. He couldn't help wondering if Joey would have been okay if he had confined himself to one guitar instead of trying out everything in that store that had strings – including the security wires at the window that promptly had set off the alarm – and when he gulped down the half-formed jokes once more, it nearly gave him the hiccups. Oh god, no more please, he had to preserve his strength for later …

Thank god, here was Ross with Ben. With the kid around he ought to be pretty safe - - - that is … oh good sweet lord.

"Ross is wearing leather pants!"

Indeed he was. Black, shiny leather pants. Ross.

"Does nobody else see that Ross is wearing leather pants?" It was unbelievable. Everyone just looked blank, even slightly bored. How? How could that be? It made him want to yell and plead. "Someone comment on the pants!"

"I think they're very nice." Rachel of all people approving of those ridiculous pants? And the others chiming in now too. This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. Or maybe another dimension, one where Ross could get away with wearing leather pants and nobody joking about it in his place, thereby helping him to relieve the pressure … Wait a moment. Why were they all so goddamn nonchalant and suppressing their smiles?

"I like them a lot." Monica too? Okay, maybe if he spelled it out for them –

"That's not what I had in mind! See, people like Ross don't generally wear these types of pants. You see, they're very tight." Ross had obligingly turned around, presenting his snug leather-clad backside to them. "Maybe there's something in _that_ area?!"

Nope. No jokes, not one teeny tiny innuendo, not even when Ross enthused about the way they smelled, and then actually faced him and smirked.

"I never really owned a good smelling pair of pants before!"

And STILL nobody said anything. How in god's name was that possible? Even if they had all ganged up on him, they shouldn't be able to resist making fun of Ross trying to pull off Tom Jones' pants - aargh!

"OH COME ON!" This was barbarous. Pure evil torture.

When it felt like his head was getting ready to explode, he gave up and rushed out blindly, slamming the door behind him, and shot into his own apartment right through to his bedroom where he lunged at his bed and pressed his head into his pillow. Maybe if he just screamed out all those jokes into it now? But it really needed a live audience, and anyway, this really was getting ridiculous. He was making a prize fool of himself and only because he couldn't keep a tight lid on his jokes. Why couldn't he just keep them in his head, why did it hurt so much when he did?

It took him nearly half an hour to calm down again. The pillow had actually been quite sympathetic and even the chick and the duck had consented to listen to his woes with hardly a squawk. Of course this probably had more to do with their getting fed by him, but he liked to think that at least those two were on his side in this. And when Joey stormed in with a thunderous face and dropped into his chair so hard he nearly keeled over with it, he felt better still. At last it looked like other people got in trouble with their resolutions too.

Still smirking he picked up the duck to give him a bath when his pants pocket started to ring, startling him so badly he nearly went into the tub himself. The duck screeched and beat his wings as it dawned on him that the ringing came from the cell phone Monica had given him for Christmas and that he always kept in his pants pocket even though they had never used it until now. London calling at last.

"Hello London!" he said after he'd finally fumbled it open and Monica giggled.

"Hi Chandler. Are you feeling better?"

"Not really, but it's nothing a bit of Joke-Bismol won't fix …"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about just now …"

"No, you're not. But it's okay. You can make up for it tonight." There was a funny clicking sound in the line - probably just Monica giggling excitedly.

"Actually ... I can't wait to be with you! I'll sneak over as soon as Ross picks up Ben. I'll just tell Rachel I'm gonna be doing laundry for a couple of hours."

"Laundry. Huh. Is that my new nickname?"

"Awww, you know what your nickname is, Mr. Big …"

Another funny sound, this time more like a gasp and a dull thud, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Mr. Big. Finally. It had been so long since he'd heard it from her. And on the phone too where anyone listening in by chance could have heard it too! Well, not really, since nobody else had his number except Monica so far. But it was still a cheering thought and he had to take what he could.

"Actually it's 'Even Bigger' now" he said, grinning broadly when he heard her breathing in sharply. "But I'll let you judge for yourself. Oh, do we have enough condoms left? Tell you what, I'll get some more and come over afterwards. Then we can leave to do laundry together."

"Sounds good. Oh, I have to go now, Ben wants to show me a picture. What's this? Oh is this your dad with his leather pants? Wow!"

"Daddy Cowboy!" Ben piped up. Chandler barely managed to switch off the phone before the laughter erupted out of him and he had to sit down on the rim of the tub, shaking helplessly and wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. Daddy Cowboy. No way the others would be able to resist that. Not in a million years.

Right. Time to get those condoms. And extra large ones this time.


	24. Resolutions and Consequences, part 2

Monica had never thought it possible that she could actually miss Chandler's jokes.

At first she had actually agreed with Ross, thinking that it had to be a good thing if less fun was made of people in general and the six of them in particular. Plus she had been really curious to see if Chandler would really be able to pull it off, stop running his mouth all the time in much the same way he had – eventually – managed to stop smoking or at least put it on hold. She had also been quite sure that this would be next to impossible for him. If giving up smoking had already been such a frightful battle, and moreover one that was still going on, how would he ever be able to stop joking, even if it was only for a week?

And now it had already been one and a half day since he took on Ross' bet and while she'd had a lot of fun watching him trying to hold his jokes in and nearly choking with the effort, she had come to realize that she was actually missing his sarcastic comments, if only a little. Okay, sometimes even a lot. They did have a way of earthing them, letting reality back in when their delusions and fixed ideas got out of hand. And it was true that she was getting just a little worried about his state of health too, especially when Ross described Chandler's agony over his new date's name so gleefully in every detail, making it sound as if he had been close to exploding from his suppressed jokes. But when he presented himself in his usual form the following night in her bedroom and not much worse for wear she was reassured again. Moreover, she had come to think that this new experience of having to reign himself in, try to control something he had quite obviously done more or less automatically before would do him a world of good or at least make him realize something about himself that he hadn't been aware of before. And he would benefit from that experience, of that she was quite sure. Unlike Ross, who was quite unable to admit his failures and draw from the experience, Chandler had always been much more prepared to acknowledge his shortcomings and seek advice to help him overcome them. And what was even more amazing was that he had actually followed that advice, and on several occasions already in the past. She was sure that whatever happened, he would come out of this stupid resolution business much better off than Ross in the end. Although for her brother right now, as if the turning of the year actually did seem to spell a turning of his fate, things were starting to look up for a change. His bubbling good spirits had even convinced their parents, and when he couldn't get over his feat of actually landing a date she was even more happy for him, and not the least because it meant that she could finally get some alone time with Ben.

She hadn't seen much of her nephew since London and even though her relationship with Chandler had distracted her somewhat, she had started to miss him badly and couldn't wait to be with him. Of course it meant that Chandler wouldn't be able to sneak over that night, but she was fairly sure they would be able to make up for that in the evening under their usual 'laundry' pretense. And he seemed to think so too, she could see it on his face as clearly as if it had been written there when she told him and Joey about it on their arrival that afternoon. It even seemed to distract him from her upfront resolution – the goal she had set herself of getting at least one new fresh photo of every single friend and relation for her 1999 album. It wasn't her true resolution, not the one that really counted and that she meant to keep at all costs (and keep secret too), but rather one that she could present to the others and get away with. And it turned out to be fun too, especially when she tried to get photos that looked completely natural, like stills from a movie, and not posed at all. Photos without any "cheeeese" promptings and frozen grins, but of people dear to her that looked taken from life as it went on. She got some good ones of Joey raiding her fridge and Chandler clamping his teeth together on yet another involuntary joke when they told her of their visit to the guitar shop. He seemed to be getting better at it though. He hardly twitched when Joey asked if she also wanted a photo of him in the bathroom and later seemed quite happy to settle down on the couch beside her to look over her photo album with her. When he had finally relaxed into a companionable silence close to her, stretching out and putting his arm over the backrest of the couch, his obvious content seemed to transmit itself to her to such a degree that she couldn't even find it in her heart to chide him for putting his feet on the table. Although she couldn't help checking first that his shoes were clean.

As they waited for the others to arrive, watching TV with the sound turned low and talking aimlessly, she suddenly realized that she was happy. Happier than she had been for a long, long time, even before that dry spell before London, for at least three years. It finally began to look as if things would turn out alright, as if she was on the right path. It would take a lot more time and even more patience and trust, but if she continued to hold fast to her resolution – the real one, the one she would keep to herself all the time, never revealing it to anybody no matter what – then she would indeed achieve her goal, make her dream come true. Her dream of having a family of her own, with a loving husband and children, lots of children. The dream that three years ago she had tried to enforce out of sheer despair, and never really abandoned all through that bleak year before London. Before Chandler. Before that tiny seed that had been planted in that desperate, passionate night started to grow into that tender sprout, increasing and flourishing with every passing day, every week they managed to keep their relationship going.

She had long since realized that in order to ensure that it didn't fail, that eventually she would achieve her dream she would have to act almost contrary to her nature, her every instinct. She would have to hold back when everything urged her to push, to press ahead, would have to stand back and let matters take their course when all she wanted to do was get in the driver's seat and seize control, stay passive and silent when she wanted nothing better than talk, persuade and convince.

Essentially she would have to just trust him. Trust him to do the right thing on his own accord when the time was right.

Because otherwise it would not, could not work. She was now quite sure of this. In all the time she had known Chandler she had gotten firsthand experience how adverse he reacted to getting pushed and pressured, and how readily he pointed himself into the direction she envisioned on his own accord, falling in with her desires as if they were his own too, if she only just let him do so, without interfering, only welcoming and supporting him, but never ever making any demands or decisions for him.

This was actually her resolution. The secret one. The real one. The one that meant everything to her. The one she really meant to keep, whatever the cost. Even if it meant waiting another three years for it to happen. Or longer. Because everything was worth that.

The peaceful interlude in her living room finally came to an end when Rachel and Phoebe arrived, and Chandler's self-control was challenged once more. She felt him tense slightly when Rachel tried to share her latest gossip without actually doing so, and when he actually clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut when Phoebe started to berate Joey for not following her guitar lessons, she almost felt sorry for him, but there was nothing she could do. Any sympathy she demonstrated, any affectionate gesture could very well betray them, and this wasn't worth it. He was on his own in this.

And just when she started feeling a bit sorry anyway and considered patting his leg or stroking his hair, Ross and Ben finally arrived and she immediately flew to him with open arms as he crowed "Auntie Monica!" at the top of his thin voice. It felt as if her heart was wrenched inside her breast when he threw his arms around her neck and let himself be cuddled, and she actually had to blink back tears. Her one and only nephew. Her only ersatz child. If only she could have him for longer. Like forever.

If only she could have a kid just like him one day.

She was so enwrapped in Ben at first that she didn't notice Ross' new pants until Chandler exclaimed over them and then nearly went ballistic when everybody refused to comment on them or even show much surprise. It was almost spooky how well it worked and how easy it actually was to get Chandler to freak out. Especially since those leather pants really looked ridiculous. But when he finally stormed out of the apartment she actually felt a pang of guilt. If Ben hadn't been there, she would have considered following him to try and calm him down. But she had other priorities now and speaking of which … She got some nice pictures of Ben at her kitchen table and smiling at her like an angel, until Ross interfered with his concerns about the flash. She took some more pictures of Phoebe and Joey in their ridiculous poses, hoping that her film wouldn't run out before she got another chance at some more pictures with Ben, maybe with his crayons or the cookies she had made for him.

The next half hour was pure bliss for her as she chatted and played with Ben, helping him with his drawing and taking more pictures of him, and also with him using the automatic release. The only things that marred her happiness were Phoebe's increasingly outspoken impatience with Joey's lack of effort in his "guitar lessons" and her growing concern for Chandler. At last she decided to call him on his new cell, as soon as she was alone in the apartment. To stop herself from getting impatient, she took some more photos, managing to get herself into a really good one too – with her smiling serenely at the camera between Phoebe and Joey almost at each other's throats. She didn't care about their fight, she had her photos. Let them yell all they wanted.

"You know, none of my other student thought I was stupid!"

"Your 'other student' was YOU!"

"Come on, Ben" she said to him. "Let's go in my room, it's quieter there, and you can finish your picture there while I make a call."

"Can I call daddy too? I want to tell him about my picture!"

"Umm – why don't you wait until he comes back? Then it'll be a big surprise for him!"

Very faintly she heard Joey storming out and Phoebe yelling after him as she picked up her phone and speed-dialed Chandler's number. When it rang she suddenly realized that this was actually the very first time she had called him on the cell she had given him. It rang two times and she was starting to wonder if he had left it in his room or didn't hear it when he finally answered, sounding out of breath, but quite cheerful again.

"Hello London!" Monica couldn't help laughing at that, wondering at the same time how his voice alone could make her feel so warm and tingly all over.

"Hi Chandler. Are you feeling better?"

"Not really, but it's nothing a bit of Joke-Bismol won't fix …"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about just now …"

"No, you're not. But it's okay. You can make up for it tonight."

Right, tonight at their laundry date. She would have to make sure to think of something really special for him to make up for his suffering. Even thinking about it made her breath come short. There was a funny sound in the line, probably something his cell had picked up near him – it sounded like he was in the bathroom.

"Oooh, I will! I can't wait to be with you! I'll sneak over as soon as Ross picks up Ben. I'll just tell Rachel I'm gonna be doing laundry for a couple of hours."

"Laundry. Huh. Is that my new nickname?"

"Awww, you know what your nickname is, Mr. Big …"

That got her an audible gasp and she felt as if her smile almost split her face in two. How that silly nickname could mean so much to him she would never understand, but it obviously did and she resolved right there and then to call him that more often.

"Actually it's even 'Even Bigger' now" he said then and it actually made her breath hitch. "But I'll let you judge for yourself. Oh, do we have enough condoms left? Tell you what, I'll get some more and come over afterwards. Then we can leave to do laundry together."

She had her eyes closed now, pressing the phone to her ear as her heartrate sped up. Oh this was going to be so good … Only when he started to tug at her sleeve insistently she noticed Ben who was holding out a picture to her, and immediately felt guilty because she had all but forgotten about him.

"Sounds good. Oh, I have to go now, Ben wants to show me a picture. What's this? Oh, is this your dad with his new leather pants? Wow!"

"Daddy Cowboy!" Ben piped earnestly, and as she heard Chandler laughing out loud she couldn't help laughing herself almost hysterically, shaking all over and wiping tears from her eyes. When Ben looked at her uncertainly, she had to actually struggle for control again.

"Yes, your daddy is a real cowboy now! Wow, this is a great picture! Want to make another one? With a big horse maybe?"

.

She was just giving Ben his dinner, when Joey and Phoebe came back from Central Perk after they'd finally agreed to abandon the guitar lessons for good, and Rachel too joined them again after spending nearly the whole afternoon in her room for some reason. Maybe she hadn't wanted to get on any more 'spontaneous' photos. Whatever. When Chandler too returned, Joey immediately complained about the scare he'd given him earlier by sticking the chick into his face.

"I didn't stick him into your face! I thought he wanted to try flying again so I held him up –"

"He almost took my eyes out! And was that a joke?"

"Nnn-ooo. No it wasn't!"

"Because you're not supposed to joke!"

"Of course he is. Just not about us." When Chandler smiled at her gratefully, Monica suddenly remembered what he had told her last night. That he hadn't made a joke about her since they'd gotten together, or at least tried to. And he was right, try as she might, she could not recall a single time when he had made fun of her or even aimed a sarcastic comment at whatever she had been saying or doing. Even before they had gotten together there had been numerous occasions when he had quite obviously held back. Like in London when she had obsessed about the salmon sandwiches, or the seamstress ramming her needle into her ankle, and of course at the reception when that drunken guy had thought she was Ross' mother. Or later when he'd brought her to her hotel room, still patiently listening to her embittered rantings - how easy would it have been for him to take his leave with a final cutting joke? Except he hadn't.

In fact there were very few jokes of him aimed at her specifically that she still remembered. Jokes that was, not that annoying fooling around he was often prone too. Like now when he reenacted holding the chick in Joey's face for Ben's sake and nearly fell over a chair in the process. She forgave him when it made Ben laugh, and then just like that she suddenly remembered one of his jokes, the one that he had made when she had just abandoned her jam making craze in favor of an even crazier scheme to let herself be impregnated by an anonymous sperm donor with the help of a sperm bank. "You're gonna need much bigger jars." That's what he had said, and even though she had obstinately chosen to ignore it, the words had found their mark. It had been Joey who had gotten her to see reason again, but those words had definitely prepared the way for him.

And they still held true. She did need much bigger jars. Big, big jars of patience and trust.

It was only when she had put Ben to bed on an air mattress in her room that Joey finally told them, with much snickering, about Ross' sudden plight with his new pants. Which she couldn't quite believe until her brother walked in on them, a picture of woe with his shrunken pants balled up his hands, his bare legs smeared with white paste, looking so ridiculously pathetic and humiliated she wanted to laugh and cry over him at the same time. Right at that moment she was glad that Chandler wasn't able to joke about this, with a slight worry mixed in about the way Ross' pitiful sight seemed to choke him up to the point of apoplexy.

"This year was supposed to be great! But, it's only the second day and I'm a loser with stupid leather pants that don't even fit!" Now Ross was almost bawling.

"No. No, you're not a loser!" They all hastened to reassure him. In vain of course.

"Look at me!" That made Chandler squeak as he desperately tried to control his treacherous mouth. Monica wrecked her brain for something to cheer her brother up.

"Hey! Hey, look! Look Ross, Ben drew a picture of you!" Thank god he had left it on the kitchen table. "Huh? You're - you're a cowboy!"

It did the trick. Ross first frowned at the picture and then grew absorbed in it, his whole demeanor changing in an instant as Hero Daddy took over from Total Loser.

"Oh … be-because of the leather pants ...!"

"See? Ben doesn't think you're a loser, he thinks you're a cowboy! Now that's something."

To their credit, the others all chimed in now – except Chandler who was still busy keeping his mouth clamped shut, his face now taking on a quite alarming shade of purple.

"Maybe I should get another pair! Ooh, you know, they-they had some with fringe all down the sides." Oh god, leave it to Ross to really get into the spirit of a thing. Now Chandler began to rub his temples.

"Pheebs, you may know this, you know strange things—what is the boiling point of brain?!"

"Oooh, I used to know this!" Chandler threw up his hands in despair and Monica knew she had to get him out of there fast, before he blew a fuse or something. Fortunately Ross took up the picture right then and headed for her bedroom.

"I'm gonna go kiss Ben goodnight … I can't believe he thinks I'm a cowboy." He paused for a moment thinking, and then smiled. "I would make a good cowboy!"

Chandler let out a desperate squeak again. Right, now or never.

"Okay, now that everything's wrapped up here, I think I'm gonna go do my laundry." She took up the basket she had prepared beforehand, cunningly covering the laundry she'd done already with a seemingly used towel so it looked like it was all still dirty. Chandler's relief was almost palpable.

"Oh yeah, me too. You know, if this shirt is dirty –" and he made a big show of smelling it. "Yep!"

Funny how they all seemed to buy it again. Okay, maybe Rachel did look a little preoccupied, but who could really know what went on in her head. It could very well be some particularly juicy bit of gossip that she still had trouble keeping down. Whatever it was, she couldn't care less. All she wanted now was a good long laundry round with Chandler. Nothing else mattered.

.

It was only when they had safely arrived in Chandler's bedroom, with the blinds lowered and the door securely locked (including the lower half), that it occurred to her that Ross could very well come over for a change of clothes at some point, and for a long moment she felt torn between exasperated carelessness and worried caution. Then Chandler took her in his arms and as always his touch, the feel of his body against hers, his lips trailing kisses all over her face and neck, drove away every concern, indeed practically every thought in her head that wasn't about him and what they were about to do. With a deep sigh she wrapped her arms around him and pushed his t-shirt up over his back, shuddering and gasping when his mouth found hers and their tongues met instantly. And then she found herself on his bed squirming and writhing on top of him while his hands were already busy on the fastening of her bra and the button of her pants simultaneously. Although it had gone quite differently from what she had imagined and planned earlier, she didn't mind, couldn't even spare any more thought on that. So she sat up, straddling him with her knees pressing against his ribs, and tore off her vest and shirt while he cupped her breasts and sucked on the nipples.

"Aahh … oh god … oh god … we have to … have to … arrgh … quiet, shh, ahh …"

"What..? Why ..?"

"Ross …!"

"Ross? Where?" When he actually started up, staring about him wildly, she giggled helplessly.

"No. But he could come over, you know – he'll want to change."

"But we shut the door! Um, didn't we?"

"Yeah. We did." She lowered herself on him again until their noses and lips almost touched. "But if he hears something …"

He almost groaned. "Yeah. You're right. Okay. Oh god. So – where should we go?"

Should they really? For a moment her rational cautious side almost won over, but then she felt his erection pressing against her buttocks and his hands sliding over her back and she pushed all considerations of precaution and reason away. They had gotten away with so much for four and a half months, surely they would be safe for one hour more. Okay, two hours. Maybe even three …? And the door was locked, and if the worst came to the worst, they could always think of something.

"No. We stay. We have to be quiet though. Reeeaally quiet!"

There was that mischievous sparkle in his eyes again. "Oooh, quiet! Like a silent movie? I like that." His hands slid down to her hips and he started tugging her pants and thong over her buttocks. "Yeah, let's do that. A silent movie. Actually a silent porn movie." That had her buck and shake convulsively while she desperately tried to suppress the laughter. "Are you sure you can do it though?"

"Uhrgh … um … If you can hold in your jokes for just a little longer …"

"Oh god. Okay. But only for now."

"What do you mean? You mean, your resolution -"

"- is finished. Yeah, I've decided to give up. It's wreaking havoc with my – well everything really. It's certainly not worth 50 bucks. Besides –"

"Yeah?" She kicked off her shoes and started to wriggle out of her pants, gasping when one of his hands slid between her legs and the tip of one finger found her clitoris and pressed down gently but still urgently.

"Besides, it'll help Ross a little, just to see that he's not the only loser."

"Oh. Oh, that's sooo … sweet … ummm …."

"But for now … silent porn?"

As he grinned up at her she stopped herself from moaning with an effort and just nodded silently, then started to push up his shirt and t-shirt until he let go of her to pull both garments over his head. While he was still struggling with them, she opened the button of his jeans, pulled down the zipper and yanked them down to his thighs together with his boxers, then bent forward and took his half erect penis in her mouth. He started up almost violently at this, twitching and gasping, but clamped his mouth shut again when she just looked at him defiantly, daring him to make a sound, and then sank back with a half blissful, half resigned expression on his face.

.

And their luck had held once more. Again. Ross hadn't come in, neither during their silent porn movie session nor when they were – still soundlessly – resting up for a second round, and still not while they were recuperating from that. When she finally tore herself loose and went back to her apartment with her laundry basket, she found him on the floor of her bedroom next to Ben's air mattress, fast asleep.

.

Half an hour later, after he had showered and gotten a fresh pair of pants, they settled down with Phoebe for a late round of coffee at the Perk. She had taken her camera with her to add some pictures of their favorite hangout to her collection and was just trying to get the perfect angle for a shot of Ross and Phoebe casually talking when the door was pulled open and Chandler strode in, waving a fifty dollar note like a flag of truce.

"Oh good, okay, I can't take it anymore. I can't take it anymore! So you win, okay? Here!" and he handed the note to Ross who accepted it with a bemused expression, then he took a deep breath and let go.

"Pheebs? Flying a jet? Better make it a spaceship so that you can get back to your **home** planet!"

While Phoebe still chewed on that, Chandler gathered speed and took off for third base. "And Ross, phone call for you today, Tom Jones, he wants his pants back!" For his final shot he let himself drop on the couch, resting his head on the backrest. "And Hornswoggle? What, were you dating a character from _Fraggle Rock_?!"

This outburst was followed with a huge heartfelt sigh of relief as all the accumulated pressure of the last two days was lifted from him. Monica remembered just in time to get a shot of him, while he still flopped on the couch, almost as if deflated, only starting up a little at the flash and then chuckling at her consternation when her camera suddenly started to rewind the film with a loud whirr.

"Oh no – that was my last film! Well … I guess that concludes my resolution."

"Don't you have another film?" Ross looked puzzled.

"Nope. But it doesn't matter. It wasn't much of a resolution anyway."

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm done with resolutions." Ross tucked the fifty carefully away. "From now on – no more resolutions!"

"Hear, hear. The resolution to end all resolutions!"

"Oh, I don't know about that. I kinda like the idea with the spaceship." Phoebe took up her teacup. "I definitely have to make a note of that for my next life."

Ross started to open his mouth and then thought better of it, shrugging it off. Monica put the camera away and then leaned back, scooting unobtrusively a bit closer to Chandler who managed to let his hand drop just as unobtrusively to the back of her neck where it touched the backrest of the couch. As his fingertips found and caressed just the exact right place behind her ear she closed her eyes and relaxed, smiling widely.

Let them all be done with their resolutions. She still had hers. The real one. The one she would keep.


	25. Birthday Wishes

A new day. Day six of the new year in fact, a Wednesday, and for Chandler at least all seemed right with the world. It was still cold, but not too much so, and all the Christmas snow had completely vanished by now. Work wasn't too stressful yet after the holiday break, indeed, most of the staff and executives were still on their vacations, skiing in Vale or living it up on a tropical beach somewhere. Which was fine with him. There was nowhere in the whole wide world right now he would rather be. No tropical beach could ever live up to his life here, in Monica's kitchen at breakfast, after another night of sneaking over in the dark to enjoy a hot and intense round of sex in her bed, and creeping back to his own bed to sleep like a felled ox until his alarm went, and for about a half hour longer until Ross would physically drag him out of bed. Right, there was the downside. While the secret nighttime sex sessions were worth any amount of undisturbed sleep to him, and he wouldn't dream of foregoing even one of them just for the sake of one night of undisturbed sleep, it couldn't be denied that the strain and loss of sleep was getting harder and harder to handle. So far no one had remarked on it, but it could only be a matter of time until Ross would start to ask himself why his roommate kept oversleeping and getting harder to rouse. He needed to talk this over with Monica soon. Preferably before he started to fall asleep on the floor of her living room on his way back to his own apartment.

But not now, when his coffee still hadn't had a chance to kick in. Maybe after breakfast, if Rachel would leave for work before he had to. Since Ross had gone to the gym early and Phoebe had to work this morning, this would indeed grant him and Monica a few minutes alone. Well, almost alone, except for Joey, but he wasn't a problem.

Or was he? All of a sudden (maybe the coffee had kicked in by now after all) he noticed that today Joey seemed – different. Quieter than usual, almost subdued.

And he wasn't the only one to notice this. Of course Monica had caught on much sooner than he did. But then she never had any trouble getting out of bed, no matter how little sleep she got.

"Joey, is something up? You haven't finished your second bowl of cereal!"

"Mmmh?" Joey frowned and then sighed. "I don't know. I guess, I'm not that hungry."

For a long moment there was a dead silence, while the three of them exchanged alarmed looks over Joey's head. Then Monica took a deep breath.

"Sorry, but – what?!"

Joey sighed again. "I said – I'm not hungry! Okay?" And a split second before Chandler could even open his mouth, let alone draw breath Joey turned on him, raising a warning finger. "Stop! No joke! Okay?"

"But …"

"I said, NO JOKE!"

Chandler made a great show of gulping and zipping his mouth shut and promptly had to cough. Rachel and Monica exchanged a knowing look and Rachel put her arm around Joey's shoulder.

"Sweetie, if this is about your birthday …"

Joey glared at her, pushing his chair back.

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Joey, this is ridiculous." Monica intervened. "You can't just pretend that it won't happen. Because it will."

"No it won't."

"Yes it will! Don't be such a baby. You should make the best of it! Enjoy yourself!"

"We'll have a big party for you!" Rachel chimed in. "And lots and lots of presents!"

"Come on, Joey, it's not that big a deal. So you'll be thir - -"

"DON'T!"

"So you'll have a round birthday. Come on, it's nothing to freak out about!"

Joey glared at Monica. "Easy for you to say when you're still twenty-seven."

"Twenty-eight."

"What? You're not twenty-eight! Your birthday's not until April!"

"Yes, and then I'll be twenty-nine."

Joey gaped at her. "What? No!"

"Yes, I will be, and I'd appreciate it, if we could change the subject."

"Okay. Okay." Joey's shoulders slumped. "But it's so awful! I don't want to be so old! Why can't I be in my twenties forever?"

"Joey, come on, calm down. It'll be great, you'll see! I'll tell you what, you can make a wish. From all of us. And whatever you wish for, we'll get it for you."

Joey stared at Rachel. "Really? Whatever?"

"Well … within reason. Say, if you want a big party … as much pizza as you want … a big birthday cake …"

"A stripper …"

"Chandler!" Rachel and Monica exclaimed in almost perfect sync, but Joey's eyes lit up.

"Wow, really? You'd do that?!"

"Of course I would. If it means so much to you, I'd even strip myself."

"Ugh! No! I meant, would you get me a stripper? Or go to a strip club?"

"Sure. We could all go. Have your birthday party at a strip club. Why not?"

Joey smiled blissfully, his good cheer restored again. "Okay great! Will you girls come too?"

Monica winced and Rachel pursed her mouth. "Oh, I don't know ..."

"Might not be such a good idea to take the girls, Joe. The last time they were there, they chummed up with the strippers. Monica got one of them to quit and become a teacher!"

Joey pouted. "Yeah, but then I wasn't there. This time it'll be different!"

"No, it won't be." Monica's tone left no doubt. "Yes, if you want us to come, we'll do it. But we'll have a regular birthday party here first. With a cake and presents."

"Oh god, look at the time!" Rachel jumped up and grabbed her purse. "I'm gonna be late! Chandler, are you coming?"

"Naw, I'm good for another 37 seconds."

Joey waited until Rachel had rushed out and then turned to Monica. "So, about the party …"

"Yes, we can have it here, but I'm drawing the line at the stripper –"

"That's okay! I was going to ask, can we have it Saturday early afternoon?"

"Oh, sure! But that's actually on the day of your birthday, aren't you going to be at your family's?"

Joey winced. "Mmmh – naw. I'm still kinda hoping they'll forget about my birthday." And when Monica gave him a reproaching look "Well, not my birthday, but that it's you know, the – well, that one."

Monica frowned. "Don't you think your mother will remember? Maybe they have a surprise party planned for you!"

"Ugh. All the more reason not to go there. Please! If we have to have a birthday party, can it be just for the six of us? You know, like you did for Chandler's thirtieth."

Now it was his turn to wince. "Man's got a point there, Mon."

"Really? But it was so – depressing! I was hoping to make yours a bit more cheerful. It really should be a joyous occasion!"

"What's joyous about turning thirty?!"

"Well, you … get to be more mature, experienced … composed - - yeah, alright, I heard it." Monica sighed deeply. "Actually I'm not sure myself how I'm going to handle my thirtieth birthday. I'd like to think I'm going to stay calm and composed, but I'll probably just freak out as bad as you."

"You could always get drunk" Chandler suggested.

"Like you did? No thanks. Besides, my mother would never let me hear the end of it." She gave him a warning look that made him swallow the acerbic remark about her mother back just in time. Joey hooted as he remembered.

"Right, you were totally hammered! What happened there?"

"You mean besides your wailing and lamenting?! Oooh, and now Chandler! Ohh no, we're all gettin' so old!" He screwed his face up looking at the ceiling. "WHY are you doing this to us?!" Joey scowled as Monica sniggled and hastily hid her face in her elbow. "But that actually wasn't the worst about it."

"No? Then what was? Your colleagues?"

"It was a Sunday, and they wouldn't have remembered anyway. In fact no one remembered, except you guys. But no one else."

"What? Nobody remembered your birthday? Not even – not even your parents?"

"Well my mother sort of did, but only three weeks later. My father sent a card, but it was delivered to the wrong address."

"Oh god."

"And since I'd just broken up with Kathy, she couldn't congratulate, and Janice probably sent a card to Yemen."

"Oh my god, Janice. Right. Does she still think you're in Yemen?"

He shrugged. "I guess. I hope. I really don't know! Anyway, it was just so ironic, because I had been hoping that nobody would make a big deal about it and then – nobody did. That was really unsettling."

"But we did make a big d– oh, right, we made a surprise party. So you really thought –"

"Yeah. But it's okay." He smiled at Monica who looked almost dismayed. "Really! It's no big deal!"

And it wasn't. After he had recovered from what felt like the mother of all hangovers, things had slowly but surely gotten into perspective for him and he had realized that his age really didn't change things. He was just as prone to screw up with thirty as with twenty-nine.

"Well, I promise to always remember your birthday." Joey assured him and then turned to Monica. "Um, when was it again? Just kidding!" He grinned as Chandler and Monica both rolled their eyes. "Um, but guys, to get back to what I originally wanted to say – um, well. You said I could have a wish? Any wish?"

Chandler and Monica exchanged bewildered looks. "Um, yeah? Well, within reason. No stripper in the apartment!"

"And neither Monica nor Rachel will strip for you. Or Phoebe!"

"Aw –"

"And we won't kiss for you!"

"I know that! Pity though –"

"Joey!"

"Will you let me finish? Right. Actually I was going to ask you if you two could come out on my birthday."

"What?"

"Come out to where?"

Joey glared at him. "I mean, if you could tell the others! You know about you two being together and all … I really think it's about time!"

"Gee, Joey, I don't know … This is so sudden!"

Joey folded his arms belligerently. "Soon? Guys, it's been three months!"

"Almost four actually." They said it together in almost perfect sync and then smiled at one another while Joey rolled his eyes. "Sixteen weeks by Friday" Chandler added helpfully and Joey threw up his hands.

"See? How much longer will you go on like this? Or actually, how much longer do you think you can keep this secret? It's bound to come out any day!"

"Why? What makes you think that? Joey? Does anybody else know -?"

"No! But wouldn't it be better, if you came out and told everyone before they found out by themselves? And I'm not saying they already did!"

"Yes, Joey, we believe you. But I don't think it's such a good idea."

"Why? Why not? I think it's a great idea!"

"No, Joey, it isn't." Monica put her hands on his shoulders while she gave him her best 'Monica-knows-best' look. "If it was just Rachel and Phoebe, then I would agree, but there's Ross to consider as well. I really don't think he could handle this right now."

He really had to hand it to Monica, that was a killer argument. And moreover one that hadn't occurred to himself ever.

"She's right. If Ross should ever find out, I would prefer him to be at some distance from us. Like say another country?"

Joey sighed. "But we would be there, we could hold him down while you explained … well, I guess I see what you mean. But does that mean you won't do it ever? Because I really don't know how much longer I can keep it secret! It's really hard, you know?"

"Yes, Joey, we know. And we really appreciate what you're doing for us!" Monica patted him on the shoulder. "But think about it. Do you really want Ross to learn about us while he's still living with you?"

Joey gave it some thought and then sighed. "I guess not. But he's not going to stay forever, is he? Though, yeah, it's Ross, so - - Oh god, does this mean it'll never happen?"

"Relax Joey. He will move out. I'm sure he will."

"But when? He never even looks for apartments!"

"He needs some more time, but I'm sure he'll start looking again soon."

"Yeah, as soon as he runs out of things to do. Which could really be any minute now. I mean he already fixed my door!"

"What? He did? How?"

"He put some glue on it. I'm not sure it'll last, but we'll see."

"Yeah. So you really won't come out on my birthday? Are you really sure?"

Monica sighed. "Yes, Joey, we're sure. Besides, we really couldn't do it on your birthday. Then we would steal all your thunder and we could never do that to you."

"Well, normally I wouldn't mind that, but on that day – I think I could use a little stolen thunder."

"Joey …"

"Alright! Have it your way. At least this way I get a stripper."

"Joey …!"

"Or a birthday cake. A big birthday cake. Ooooh, I know!"

"A gigantic birthday cake with a stripper in it?"

Joey threw his arms around him and burst into tears.

.

"Hey! There you are! Oooh … mmmh … I've got good news!"

"Sh! Not so loud, Rachel's still up!"

"No, she's not."

"But her light's still on!"

"Again? Ugh, I keep telling her to turn it off –"

"It's the same with Ross. He keeps it on all night. Maybe he needs a nightlight."

Monica snorted. "He already has one. Doesn't he use it at your place?"

"No, maybe he likes our lamp better … Anyway, what was the big news? Oh, don't tell me, it's that nighty? That's really very … very … nice … mmmh …"

"Actually it's not new, but I haven't worn it in a while … but that's not what I meant. Oooh, don't stop … mmmh …"

"Then what?"

"Ross is going to stay over at Carol's for the next three days!"

"What? Why?"

"Carol has a conference in Connecticut and Susan's going with her, but they can't take Ben, so Ross will stay at their place and take care of him."

"Wow. That is good news! So you get to sneak over to my place for a change?"

"Yes!" She smiled at him tenderly. "And you'll get more sleep at last. I have to tell you, I'm really getting worried about you. You always look so tired!"

"Aw. It's not so bad."

"But it is! And you keep oversleeping. Maybe we shouldn't do it at night anymore."

"What? No, don't say that. I don't mind doing it at night. It's keeping awake until Ross goes to sleep that's really hard to do. But I can manage."

"Do you really keep yourself awake until Ross goes to sleep? Why don't you set your alarm?"

"I tried that once and it woke him up too. Took him ages to go to sleep too after that."

"Oh god. Poor sweetie – oooh, wait! What if I called you on your phone?"

"What? Like that won't wake him up?"

"Not if you put it on vibrate and stick it under your pillow."

"Oh. Yeah, that could work. Yeah, let's do that. I always wanted sex by phone." He pulled her close and over him before she could cuff him and slid his hand under her nighty, gasping when he found that she wore nothing under it. The way she wriggled and squirmed under his hands told him that she didn't want to be on top this time, but when he turned on his side and got up on one elbow, she shifted until she was lying on her stomach and then started to drag a pillow over and under her hips. His mouth dry with anticipation he helped her take off the nighty and hurriedly fumbled for a condom on the nightstand while she lay on the pillow and spread her legs, her hands already clenching on the sheet. When he started to stroke and massage her hips and buttocks and kiss his way down her spine, she moaned and desperately tried to muffle the sound by pressing her mouth into the mattress. He tried to prolong the foreplay as much as possible, but when he started to tease her by drawing the tip of his penis across her vulva she wouldn't have it and pushed herself against him until he entered her. By the time he had found his rhythm she was already getting close to her first climax and he had to hold on to the headboard and pace himself while she tensed and stiffened under him, her vaginal walls clenching around him and her breath rate speeding up until she was almost hyperventilating. She allowed herself a few seconds to relax and then resumed moving and pushing against him even more urgently than before. He doggedly kept thrusting at her, his eyes screwed shut and his own breath rate speeding up until he thought that everyone at least a hundred yards away from them had to hear him pant and groan, and dimly wondering if his heart would give out any time soon. But it didn't and anyway any strain was so worth it. When his orgasm finally struck he collapsed on her gasping and shuddering, barely keeping his balance as she arched her back and then lay still. He almost forgot to hold on to the condom when he got off her at last and stretched out beside her after he had disposed of it. Monica spat out the corner of the pillow and then blindly reached out for him. For a while they just rested, holding tight and exchanging small little kisses, until he felt her relax under his hands and realized that she had fallen asleep.

.

"Hey! You're up! How come?"

"Told you, it was just a phase. I'm fine!"

"Really?" Ross looked at him closely. "I'm glad to hear it. I was getting worried about you –"

"I know. But it's no big deal." Chandler tried his best to appear nonchalant while he desperately fought against the urge to yawn. Yawn until his jaw unhinged and his tonsils got some sun along with the fresh air, and then rest his head on his arms on the counter for a moment or two. Or three.

"You're sure? Well, it's a relief. I thought I'd have to come over in the mornings to get you up again!"

Chandler remembered just in time to look blank. "Come over ..?"

"That's right! I'll be living at Carol's the next few days while she's at a conference. I'll be back on Sunday though, don't worry."

"I'm not worried. But you'll be here for Joey's birthday though?"

"Of course! I'm not going to miss that! A giant cake with strippers? How cool's that?"

"Stripper-ssss? Plural? I only promised him one – Joey!"

"What? It's my thirrr- my birthday! I feel bad about it already, and now you take back the strippers?"

"I didn't say that …"

"It's okay, Joey. Don't feel bad. You'll have a great birthday. Better than mine at least."

"Yours? What happened at yours?"

"Don't you remember?"

"How could he, when we all forgot it? Including you?" Ross' face fell.

"Right. But I remembered later that day!"

"When you went out and bought that sports car?"

Joey hooted and Ross winced.

"Yeah – what was I thinking?!"

.

All day he couldn't stop thinking about Monica sneaking over to his place at last after such a long time. Ever since November, after Ross had moved in with them, he'd had to sneak over to her bedroom at night, after having to wait for what seemed like an eternity before Ross had finally nodded off and then risk waking Rachel as he crept across Monica's living-room. Not that he enjoyed the thrill of it all, but it was starting to get to be a bit of a strain too. True, they had done it in his room during those four blissful days after Christmas when everybody else was out of town, but it wasn't the same.

And the best thing about it was that he didn't need to stay up until she arrived, but could go straight to bed and wait for her there, resting and getting ready. Get in the mood for it, trying to think up what they could do this time, and how to go about it. And all the other things he had to prepare beforehand, like changing the sheets and making sure he had condoms ready – it wasn't until next week that they could do it without them again. He even had a go at cleaning the bathroom, even though he knew that she hated to use it, especially at night.

As the evening dragged on interminably, he found himself growing more nervous by the minute. Fortunately Joey had spent all day at a rather strenuous audition for a music video that involved a lot of running around, and consequently chose to turn in as soon they had both agreed that they had seen that particular Law and Order episode already at least twice. After he'd made sure that Monica could find her way across his living-room in the dark without bumping into Ross' cartons or stumbling over the birds' food bowls, he went to bed too. It seemed a shame to waste the evening when they finally had the apartment to themselves again, but on the other hand they never got a chance to turning in early when Ross was there, so it did make for a nice change after all.

He considered leaving his bedside lamp on at first, but then decided to turn it off. Monica never left hers on, mostly to save on energy of course, but also because getting together in the dark, groping and fumbling while warming against each other was so very exciting in its own way. He lay on his back with his hands laced beneath his head, and then closed his eyes, smiling widely to himself as he started to relax. Mmmh. Soo nice. It was going to be so good. She would come into the room and stand before the bed while she let her bathrobe slip down over her shoulders, and she would only wear a thin nighty or short silk pajama under it, or maybe nothing at all and he would catch a glimpse of her smooth skin in the faint light from the streetlamp outside as he held up the covers for her and took her in his arms, kissing and pressing his heated body against her cool trim one …

And of course he fell asleep. So deeply in fact that it took him a long time to wake and realize that he had fallen asleep, and when he finally started up he sat up so abruptly Monica's arm caught him across the chin.

"Ooouuuch – wha- - oh god, did I get you? Oh. Oh god. What time is it?"

"About time you woke up, you sleepyhead! I've been trying to wake you for hours!"

"What? Oh. Right. Sorry, I really meant to stay awake …"

"Yeah. I know. I would have come sooner, but Rachel wouldn't turn in, she kept watching TV and talking to me. And then she fell asleep on the couch."

"Oh good, so now we both got that invaluable sneaking past occupied couches experience."

Monica snorted. "Please, I used to do that all the time before Ross moved in here! But yes, it was good to get a little practice again." She snuggled closer to him and sighed contentedly when he slid his hand over her side and hip and then down her thigh and up again. "Mmmh … though I must say, there's something funny about Rachel lately."

"Funny how?" He found it harder and harder to keep his mind on their conversation as she squirmed against him and rubbed herself against his growing erection.

"Mmmh … she keeps looking at me in a strange way, as though she expected something from me. And she keeps talking to me, and about really pointless things. It's driving me crazy."

"Um. Mmmh. Maybe she thinks you have a secret boyfriend again."

"Uh-uh. I don't think so, but … oh, but maybe she has one!"

"A secret boyfriend? Rachel? Come on."

"Or just a secret. Something she wants to tell, but doesn't know how. Oooh, I wonder what that is? She never keeps a secret from me! Not for long anyway. Ooh, this is so exciting!"

"More exciting than this? Gee, if only Rachel knew what she was missing … Ouch!"

Monica giggled and rolled on top of him, holding his hands down and away from her while she stretched out on him and pressed her mouth on his. For a while he lay still, enjoying her warm weight on him, the way her breasts were crushed against his chest and her thighs pressed against his hips while they kissed deeply and lingeringly. At last she let go of his wrist to reach out for the box of condoms on his nightstand and then scooted downwards a little, deftly unrolled the condom over his penis and took him inside herself, then settled on him with a contented sigh. As he started to thrust up into her he remembered how he had pictured their meeting earlier when he went to bed and nearly laughed out loud. When had things ever gone as he had imagined them, especially with Monica? And when had they not turned out even better?

.

However, Joey's birthday party did turn out pretty much as he had expected. After scowling at the big "Happy Thirtieth Birthday" sign, the presents and the burning candles on the big birthday cake Joey sat on the easy chair and raised his arms heavenward, wailing and screaming inconsolably on top of his lungs.

"Why God?! Why?! We had a deal! Let the others grow old! Not me!"

And still sobbing he buried his head in Phoebe's lap.

.

.

.

A/N. Yes, I know, that thorny problem with their ages and birthdays again :-/ With Joey's age the general consensus seems to be that he is older than Chandler either by a whole year or only a few months, but I am going by the two times that Chandler states his age in the canon when he says that Joey is 28 in the fourth season and 31 in the seventh – which puts his 30th. birthday in January 1999. Also I have no idea if they really forgot Ross' 30th birthday (in October 1998 the way I figure it) or not. I only know that I myself completely forgot to mention it in this story, so this is my attempt to make up for it.

And about Chandler's sawn-through door: It seemed strange to me that Ross, with so much time on his hands and going crazy with boredom, would not try to fix the door while he was staying at #19. And if you look closely at it in TOW Chandler's Worklaugh it really looks as if the two halves were glued together again.


	26. Laugh that Laugh, part 1

A/N: I know, I know, I'm getting antsy for the big reveal too. But it's still four weeks and two rather important episodes to go and I really can't bring myself to rush this now. So bear with me a little longer – after all, it can't be much more than, say, six chapters until the big event. Well, seven. Ish. Okay, eight. I think.

.

.

.

There weren't many things Monica liked about January – usually it was a cold, dark and dreary time, the desolate aftermath after the big holidays – but one of those few things was that everyone had enough time on work days to meet in Central Perk just after noon for a long lunch break or an early coffee break. It was the time when all the big companies made their inventories which meant that Chandler as well as Rachel hadn't much to do at work, and, since most people did not have a lot of money left to spend on massages and dinners, she and Phoebe too had more time on their hands. Joey was still recuperating from the shock of his thirtieth birthday – they all were in fact – and in no mood to actively pursue work that didn't drop into his lap by itself, and Ross was still on sabbatical. Which meant still out of work. Still trying to get over the fact that his life refused to be the way he thought it should be and getting whinier about it with every day something went wrong. Which was pretty much every day. Since it hadn't even occurred to him to tell their parents about it, and the five of them as well as Carol had become quite adept to dodge him whenever another outburst loomed, there could not be that many people left that could bear to listen to his woes. But it also meant that he was generally free and they all could meet in Central Perk, where Gunther kept the big couch free for them almost as a habit.

Chandler and Phoebe were already there when she arrived and she was glad to see that Phoebe had claimed the big chair for herself, since it meant that she could sit next to Chandler on the big couch. She wished they could have greeted each other properly instead of just a quick smile and a short but hot look, but it couldn't be helped.

"Oh hey, there you are! Chandler was just telling me about his office party. Are you really going with him?"

"Sure, why not? It's a party. I haven't been on a party since, well – "

"New Year?"

"I mean a party where I was a guest not the host."

"Oh. Okay, but a party at Chandler's workplace! I couldn't do it."

"Why? What's wrong with Chandler's workplace?"

"Nothing much, but when I worked there I always felt like most of the people there were dead inside. Or predators. No offense."

"None taken." Chandler said wryly. "I agree with you. They're all a bunch of zombies."

"Oh god. You didn't tell me it was a party for zombies! But there'll be free alcohol, right?"

"God, yes, lots of it, otherwise they'd all remain in their graves."

"Then I'll take the chance" she said smiling and casually brushing her hand over his knee. He smiled back and let his arm rest on the back of the couch, so his hand ended up just over her head. When Phoebe bent forward to get her coffee, she felt him touching her hair. But only for a second, then he withdrew it hurriedly when Rachel and Joey entered, seemingly in the middle of an argument. She couldn't quite make out what it was about, something about Joey not trying as hard as he could if he only wanted to according to Rachel, and it seemed she even tried to bribe him with a cupcake. They chose to sit at the little side table instead of on the couch for which she was grateful. Sitting next to Joey while he devoured his cupcake was always perilous at best. Having to watch him was bad enough.

And then Ross stormed in, as always radiating hurt and anger, and barely acknowledging their hellos and heys, ordering a scone of all things at the counter instead.

"Wanna hear some good news?" he asked with a sneer.

"Is somebody else gonna give it to us?" Chandler asked carefully. "Because you certainly don't seem like you have any …"

"No, no, I do. Someone I know is getting married! Yeah! And weddings are happy occasions! Oh, by-the-by, it's my ex-wife Emily!"

Oh no. For once she had to admit that Ross' anger was justified. Emily getting engaged again, and so soon after the wedding? After four months?

Seventeen weeks, she added in her mind almost automatically. Seventeen weeks since London. In two days we will have been together for seventeen weeks …

Ross took the scone from Gunther, put it on the table and started to pound it to bits with his fist in a fit of seemingly white-hot seething rage.

"STUPID BRITISH SNACK FOOD!"

She sensed Chandler tensing for a moment and taking a deep breath. His voice however remained quite calm.

"Did they teach you that in your anger management class?"

Well, better the scone than – someone else. She made a mental note to avoid all British food in the near future, at least when Ross was present. Pity about muffins though. Were they even British?

Of course Phoebe offered some advice that managed to at least sound helpful. "Hey, you know what might help you deal with it? Think of it this way, you and Emily are in the past and you can't be mad about the past. So are you still mad about the Louisiana Purchase?"

Well, at least she had a point with its being in the past. She hoped that Ross would let at least that part sink in, as he dropped on the couch sullenly. And now Joey started to eye the smashed scone hopefully.

"Anybody gonna eat that?"

"Ugh! Joey!"

"What? Gunther'll only throw it away!" Joey scooped up a piece of the flattened scone and pushed it into his mouth, ignoring their protests. But as he started chewing his face suddenly changed.

"Ugh – what's that taste?" He grabbed the plate from Rachel and spit the piece of half-chewed scone on it. Monica pressed her face against Chandler's chest without thinking, and when she realized what she had done, she didn't care. Chandler seemed to think the same, since he confined himself to pat her awkwardly on the back.

"Ew, Joey, what is it?"

"I don't know, tastes like – like detergent?"

Monica tried to sit up and compose herself, avoiding to meet Chandler's eyes.

"Ross, did you wash your hands before you came here? With detergent maybe?"

"I had to, there was duck shit on the counter!"

It didn't bear thinking. "Um, you know what – I think I'll head off to work early today." And as she had hoped, Chandler took her cue and got to his feet.

"Yeah, me too, can't keep the zombies waiting!"

.

.

Until the buttslapper turned up, Monica was actually enjoying herself. Really, what was not to enjoy? The place looked really nice, with a festive atmosphere, muted but pleasant music, they were all dressed up – she in her black and blue cocktail dress that made her feel so cool and elegant, and Chandler in that smart suit and the tie with blue flowers on it that brought out his eyes. There was plenty to drink and so far none of the people there had tried kill and eat them. In fact no one here had any reason to think it strange that they were a couple, so they could relax and – just be exactly that.

It felt really strange. Exhilarating and wonderful, and very strange.

"Look at us all dressed up for the big office party! By the way, what are we celebrating?"

"Oh, we had a lot of liquor left over from the Christmas party" Chandler replied casually and Monica remembered with a pang that he had been at that party when she had been away at her parents'. Both of them away from each other, in their own separate worlds. At least they could share this now.

"I think this is so cool because none of our friends are here and we can be a real couple. We don't have to hide."

Chandler's grin broadened. "I know! I can do this ..." and he took her hand and drew her closer to his side, into his personal space. She tightened her fingers around his and nestled against him, claiming him for her own for all to see.

"Ooh, and I can do this." She raised herself on her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, breathing in his aftershave and feeling his warmth, the soft skin under the minute stubble. He turned a little more towards her, leaning in, and suddenly they were close, very close to each other, almost touching, merging …

"We can't do that!" They said it together, almost as one and she tore herself away from him with an effort. All of a sudden she longed for the party to be over, so she could get close to him again, this time in a quiet secluded place where they could be alone and she could rip that suit off him at her leisure. Maybe if they sneaked off to his office later and did it on his desk? Again?

And then that tall thin guy with the hungry expression on his cadaverous face approached them and unceremoniously whacked Chandler on his ass.

"Hey BING!" Chandler jumped about a foot in the air, but otherwise appeared quite unfazed, even breaking out in a rather weird braying laughter, which disconcerted her even more. He had also managed not to spill his drink. And now the buttslapper turned to her.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa! Who's the pretty lady and what the hell is she doing with you?"

"I ask myself that very question, sir ..." Chandler was grinning so hard, she thought his face muscles had frozen. "Uh, this is Monica. This is my boss, Doug. Doug this is Monica."

Doug. His boss Doug. Doug the buttslapper. The one Chandler had complained so bitterly about two years ago, when it turned out that his new boss loved to motivate – or even reward - his subordinates by slapping them on their butts. He had even borrowed lotion from her, not that it had helped much. Now it made sense – if a weird one, and she tried her best not to let her surprise show. Or how much the guy already creeped her out. "Hi, nice to meet you!"

The buttslapper grinned perfunctorily and produced a tall woman in a severe blue suit from behind him, almost as if conjuring her out of thin air.

"Hi! And this is my wife Kara." Whoa, how could a creep like that actually be married to such a nice looking lady?

"Nice to meet you Monica." And the nice looking lady smiled widely, gathering momentum and – dang it, if she too didn't treat Chandler's posterior to a resounding slap. "Bing!" It raised her hackles, all the more because Chandler only grinned wryly, hardly twitching even. What was wrong with these people? And more important, with Chandler?

"Say uh, Bing, did you hear about the new law firm we got working for us?"

"No, sir?"

"Yeah, Dickem, Stickem and Run." While Mr and Mrs Creepy almost went into convulsions about his joke, Chandler chimed in with more of those weird braying sounds that she hadn't even known he was capable of producing. Also she didn't know how much more she could take of this. But to her profound relief the buttslapper couple now seemed done with them. She had almost begun to fear that she too would be required to offer her butt up for slapping, but apparently the courtesy didn't stretch to complete strangers.

"Come on honey, let's go drink our body weight." And they walked off, leaving them alone. Monica heaved a sigh of relief.

"What was that?!"

"What?" She hated that he seemed genuinely surprised by her question.

"That noise you just made?"

"Oh, that was my work laugh." He said it in quite an offhand manner too, and it suddenly dawned on her that this actually seemed normal to him. This place, these people, those weird rituals – it all seemed strange to her, outlandish even, but he had lived with it for years – for as long as he had lived next door to her actually. Lived with it and somehow survived.

"Really? Your work laugh?" And yet it made a sort of weird sense. How much stranger would it have been to hear him laugh for real here? It had to be next to impossible.

"Oh, believe me, to survive this party, you're gonna have to come up with one too."

A work laugh? Really? Laughter was the last thing she associated with work, but maybe there was something in that. And if Chandler could do it, she could too, and even better.

"All right, check me out."

The buttslapper and his wife had joined another group near them and he was just finishing another of those awful jokes.

"… says $30 Father; same as in town!"

Monica took a deep breath and let go, trying to make it as shrill and artificial as possible. "Haheheahahe…!" It sounded quite perfect in her ears, much better even than Kara's, given that the buttslapper's wife had to have much more practice. This was actually starting to be fun. She turned back to Chandler to get him to join in and maybe perfect his laugh even more, but for some reason he winced and motioned to her to go easy. Oh well. Maybe she could use this work laugh at her own work place. That should give her asshole colleagues something to think about.

.

Fortunately, except for a brief stint at the bar where Doug was holding forth about the advantages of backhand slapping (so much more drive to it, but of course, not everyone can take that, eh, Bing?) the buttslappers left them and their butts pretty much in peace. As they drifted from group to group, chatting and mingling, and kept drinking all the while, she found herself relaxing and enjoying it all quite a lot. Yes, it was all quite meaningless and shallow, but it had been so long since she had attended a party like that. And apart from all else, it was something where she could be together with Chandler. That was what really counted.

Only when she noticed the first couples leaving, she realized how late it had gotten.

"Oh my, look at the time …"

"Right. If we don't leave now, I won't be able to sneak past Ross. He's sleeping quite lightly these days."

"Oh, um, as to that, I thought since we're already here, maybe you could let me have another look at your office …?"

"But you've seen it already – oh. Really? My office? Now?"

She squeezed his fingers lightly. "Yes, I'd love that. Unless your butt's too sore?"

He winced and then grinned. "No, I'm pretty callused there by now." He looked around the room, craning his neck a little. "Okay, coast seems to be clear - he's at the bar, but where's his wife?"

"Isn't that her at the buffet? Ugh, who's your caterer by the way? That caviar looks terrible."

"I know, better steer clear of it, it's probably a leftover from the Christmas party too …"

They inched their way to the door leading to the hallway with the executive offices and at last managed to sneak out without anyone taking notice. The hallway was almost dark, but they found their way to Chandler's office without having to turn on the ceiling lights, and hurriedly slipped inside. Chandler closed the door and pushed a small table against it for safety, then he turned to her and took her in his arms. She pressed against him, wrapping her bare arms around his waist under his coat and soaking up his body warmth as they kissed deeply and hungrily. For a little while they remained like that, snuggling and nestling against each other in front of the big window with the glittering colorful lights of nighttime New York unfolding beyond it, then he gently steered her towards his desk and lifted her up, pushing up her dress to her waist as she settled on it and pressed her thighs against his hips. They kissed again, giggling and moaning breathlessly while he tugged down her thong over her knees and slipped two fingers inside her, and she drew down the zipper of his pants, freeing his penis from his boxers, stroking and squeezing it until it almost seemed to thrum in her hands. He pushed her back until she was lying on the desk and bent over her, taking hold of her hands and kissing her neck and shoulders while she clung to him, screaming softly as she took him inside her and felt him pushing deeper. Just when she thought they had settled into the optimum position he shifted slightly and hooked her legs over his arms, lifting them up and holding her closer to him with his hands under her shoulders. It made her clench her hands in his coat on his back and scream in total abandon. Only when he clamped his mouth on hers to silence her she realized what she had done and they both froze for a long moment, listening breathlessly. But everything around them remained dark and silent and almost at once they picked up again where they had left off, and even as intense as before. A little less noisy though.

.

.

When she entered Central Perk on the following day around noon, it turned out that she was the first there and there was even a blueberry muffin left. Since Ross wasn't due for at least another half hour she took it, returning to the couch just as Chandler rushed in. Conscious of Gunther watching them he didn't kiss her, but held out his arms instead, grinning all over his face.

"Hey! Everybody at work **loved** you last night!"

"Really?" It actually gave her quite a thrill.

"**And**! They like me more just because I was with you!" Chandler was almost dancing in place. "I think you repaired a lot of the damage from when they met Joey. And Doug wants us to play tennis with them! He's never even **talked** to me outside of work! Except for that time when we bumped into each other at that strip club -"

She glared at him and he caught himself immediately. "Strip … church. Anyway, I'm gonna go try and find a racket."

"Hey, I thought you already had one." She distinctly remembered seeing it in his room, leaning against the wardrobe.

"Oh, I used too, but then Joey thought it would be fun to go to Central Park and hit rocks at … bigger rocks." Yeah that figured – good thing she never lent him anything. Not anymore. Chandler almost danced his way back to the door where he came up against Rachel. Oh shoot, and here she had hoped for some alone time with her muffin and a book, but no such luck …

"Hey Rach, do you have a tennis racket?"

"Oh umm, you know I lent it to Joey and I never actually got it back ..."

Sounded about right. And here was Rachel now, immaculately turned out in her office suit under the coat she was just taking off. She kept primping herself nervously, tugging at her skirt and sleeves and brushing her hair back, and all the while never taking her eyes off her and keeping an almost hungry expression in her face. It put Monica on guard almost against her will.

"Hi!"

"What's up?!" That sounded so expectant somehow.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had to do inventory all day."

"Well yeah, I do, but I decided to take a long lunch and spend some time with my friend Monica. You know I - I feel that we don't talk anymore. How are you? What is new with you?"

What on earth had got into Rachel? Was she trying to tell her something and just didn't know how? But that had never been a problem, quite the contrary.

"Uhh, not much. Uh, work's good." Not quite true, but actually she couldn't wait to try out that work laugh thing in her kitchen later.

"Oh you know what, we don't have to talk about work. We can talk about anything!"

Yeah, right. There had been a time once when they had been able to just do that. But not anymore. Unfortunately, but there it was. "Okay. Umm …"

"Hey! You know what? Let's talk about relationships!" Monica felt her hackles rise as Rachel stared at her eagerly. What the hell …?

"Okay, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" Rachel didn't even bat an eyelash. "You go!"

If only she could use that story about her secret boyfriend again, but they had discarded it even before Christmas and Rachel would never buy it if she pretended she had taken up with him again. Or a new one who was just as shy and reticent as the first – there were limits even to Rachel's gullibility. Okay, she was getting on thin ice here. What was there she could say? And where were the others when she needed them? Now would really be a good time for Ross to slouch in and whine about the latest disaster…

"Well, I - I—there was this guy at the bank that I thought was cute - umm, but I don't anymore ..."

There was an expectant pause until Rachel seemed to realize that there was nothing more forthcoming, and she abruptly turned away, biting her lip.

"Wow that's … uh, juicy. Umm – " and she glanced at her watch "you know what though, Mon, I actually do have a lot of work to do, so if - if—are you sure there's just not anything else?"

For a fleeting moment Monica was actually worried. This wasn't like Rachel. Maybe this wasn't about her as she had assumed, but something that Rachel tried to confide to her?

"Yes, I'm sure! Rachel is there something that you want to talk me about?"

"No!" Rachel got up, smoothing her skirt and grabbing her coat as she turned to leave. Monica stared after her and thought she heard her mutter something under her breath. It sounded like 'I wouldn't tell you', but she wasn't sure. Well, so much for Rachel and their friendship. In the beginning it had seemed so simple and so obvious that she couldn't share the secret of her relationship with Chandler with Rachel. Not with any of the other four, but especially not with Rachel. It had simply been out of the question. But now she was starting to doubt the wisdom of that decision just a little. Yes, if that relationship with Chandler was to succeed it was quite crucial that it should be kept secret for a while longer, but what about the damage it did to her friendship with Rachel and also Phoebe? Would they ever be able to trust her again, safe in the belief that they knew everything about her there was to know? Or would it create a rift that they would never be able to close again once they arrived at the point where it all came out? She could only hope that Rachel was mature enough by now to understand what had led her to keep her relationship a secret, and how much it cost her. And also hope that it had been the right decision to make.

Her coffee had gone cold and now she seemed to have lost her appetite for the muffin too.


	27. Laugh that Laugh, part 2

When when when would he ever learn not to assume even the tiniest little thing where Monica was concerned? Was he doomed to fall into that trap over and over again, for as long as they were together? And when exactly would he realize he was heading for disaster early enough to avoid the pitfall and not when it was too late? Like now when it had finally dawned on him that he had been wrong yet another time when it was already too late and Monica too far gone on her rampage of singlehandedly wiping Doug and Kara off the tennis court and mopping up after them.

He had assumed (and forgotten one more time that 'assume' meant nothing else but 'ass-you-me' according to 'Silence of the Lambs', either the movie or the book) that Monica at the tennis game with his boss would be as great a success as she had been at the office party and would turn out to be as delightful and decorative in her tennis dress as in that stunning outfit at the party. Well, the part about the tennis dress certainly applied, but for the rest … It was just as well that Doug and Kara didn't seem to realize what they had let themselves in for either. They had no way of knowing that Monica had never really grasped the concept of leniency. Or tact. Or prudence. Or restraint for that matter. Given the chance she would if not beat Steffi Graf then at least give her a good run for her money. The more fool he for forgetting that Monica made it a point to excel at every game – and that she had played a lot of tennis growing up, and nearly always against Ross who was the only one who matched her in her zeal. Their matches usually only came to an end when the club was closing and they had to be carried off the court. He should have known that Doug never really had a chance. Instead he had dismissed all the warning signs – like Monica not even breathing hard when Kara was already puffing desperately, the mad shine in her eyes, her triumphant howls getting louder and louder with each point they scored – and now had to stand by helplessly and watch his girlfriend singlehandedly destroying his intricate and sensitive arrangement of relations with his boss that had taken him almost three years to create. Three years of getting used to buttslaps, dodging confrontations, biting back jokes and perfecting his work laugh – all practically annihilated with that one powerful slam of Monica's that both secured them the game and hit Kara's shin hard enough to make her cry out in pain and disbelief. Just like that. Although he had to admit to a tiny bit of glee when he remembered Kara's perfunctory and rather patronizing smile earlier when they had met in the foyer. But this was definitely not worth it.

"Well, I gotta tell ya Bing; that partner of yours is a real tiger." Doug still sounded more bewildered than reproachful as he checked on his wife. "Are you all right sweetheart?"

Even out of breath and in pain Kara managed to make it clear that she was anything but. As Douglas supported her while she limped off the court to "get a little sip of water" Chandler felt himself getting ready to panic. Especially since Monica was clearly not wasting any thoughts about Kara's wellbeing.

"Am I on fire today or what?! Those birds are browned, basted, and ready to be carved!"

There was an image. Chandler took a deep breath.

"Okay, easy Martina!" That earned him a reproachful glare and he gritted his teeth. How to get through to her when she was so caught up and fixated in her passion?

"I think we should let them win the next game."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you just said." Her disbelieving stare made him wince. How could he have been so blind? He had been there when Monica had spent four hours grimly holding on the football after that fateful Thanksgiving match, in complete disregard of the cold, the onsetting snow, the dark and her turkey getting eaten up by the others. How could he even hope to make her see reason here?

"Let them win one." Maybe pleading would work?

"Are you crazy?! We own those two! I mean look at them, he can't breathe and she's popping pills!"

Or not. Or maybe pity?

"You're not even giving them a chance!"

"They have rackets, don't they?!"

Nope, pity didn't work either, just as he had thought. Oh god, and here was Doug, looking rather frayed at the edges by now, his brows ominously knitted.

"Uh Bing, I think we're gonna make this the last game."

Oh thank god, maybe something could still be salvaged after all.

"Oh yes, sir! Put me out of my misery. Are you sure you never played pro?" He fortified his answer with a solid work laugh and noted with relief that Doug seemed to buy it. As they took up their positions again, he beseeched Monica as intensely as he could. "PLEASE let them win!"

"I'll take it down to 95% but that's the best I can do."

It was better than nothing. If neither pity nor reasoning worked, he would have to go the hard way, try to foil her efforts and hope to get away with it. So when Doug aimed his ponderous return straight to him, he put on a big show of swinging his racket close, but not close enough – "Oopsie, missed it!" – and let it swish past him … right into Monica's reach as she darted behind him and slammed the ball back hard, with a deadly accuracy that landed it right in front of them while their guard was still down and they could only stare after it in shock as it bounced away.

"Nice shot!" Doug spat and Chandler could only glare at Monica while she shrugged impatiently. Okay, time to change tactics and go on the offensive. As soon as Kara's next return came her way, he cut in front of her and hit the ball high and – "Long!" And it did the trick, the ball travelled safely behind the lines while Doug's face visibly relaxed and Chandler felt a huge weight lifting from him. In his relief he couldn't resist treating Monica to his most gleeful work laugh.

He wasn't quite sure afterwards whether it was this new tactic or Monica's growing frustration – or a combination of both – that gave Doug and Kara the minute edge they needed to finally come out ahead, and he didn't really care. The only thing that counted was that his boss had won – and would never know how close he had come to not just losing, but getting completely obliterated. And any doubts Chandler still had after they dragged themselves to the showers vanished when Doug invited him and his 'firebreather' to dinner the next day. Dinner at Doug and Kara's! No one from his level had come so far until now. That was definitely worth all that trouble.

True, his elation suffered a little setback when after seeing the couple off he returned to the court to collect Monica, who had stayed behind for a few solo rounds, ostensibly to 'practice' but really to work off her frustration, and she wordlessly handed him his broken racket. It didn't even occur to him to ask how she had managed it. All in all he considered it a small price to pay for his victory. Now if he only could make her see how much they had won by losing...

But by the time they got back to #20, Monica was still seething with rage, turning a deaf ear to all his efforts to explain the importance of letting your boss win. Even his mentioning of the 'firebreather' didn't placate her.

"I can't believe you let them win!"

"Yeah, at least you hid your feelings well about it." He took out the broken racket and held it under her nose, but Monica didn't even blink and just snatched it out of his grip.

"I was frustrated!"

"It was my racket!" That he had had to buy at the tennis center and now looked beyond repair.

"I was frustrated with you!" she snapped.

"If we hadn't lost the game they never would've invited us to dinner tomorrow night." That had actually been the only thing that had appealed to her since they had left the tennis center. But only a little. Now she dismissed it again impatiently.

"You know what really bothers me? It's — it's how different you act around them! I mean you know, the throwing the tennis games, the fake laugh, the "I'll see you around, Bing!" "Not if I see you first, Doug!" Eahheaheah!"

Good lord, did his work laugh really sound like that? So – silly? And gross? He was getting fed up with this nonsense. Why did he always have to explain himself to her and hope for her approval?

"Listen, I don't sound like some crazed drunken pirate!"

Her expression softened again. "I know you don't, but Work Chandler does. I gotta tell you, I don't like Work Chandler. Okay? The guy's a suck-up."

Right. Enough was enough. He had tried patience and compliments and reasoning, to no avail. If he didn't stand up to her now, he would never ever be able to anymore.

"Okay, you know what, because you said that, I'm not putting out tonight!" And he turned on his heel and strode to the door, back straight and head held high. Suck-up? No sir, not he. Not with her at least. Or not anymore.

'_Way to go! That'll show her!'_ When guy-in-his-head #1 spoke up Chandler froze with his hand on the door handle. It had been so long that he had heard the two voices arguing in his head that he had all but forgotten about them. And here was guy-in-his-head #2, right on cue.

'_May I point out that if you don't put out, she won't either? It'll end with both of you not getting any. Not exactly a win/win situation, is it?'_

'_But she won't ever listen!'_ guy #1 whined.

'_And you think this will make her? Really? Hello-oh?!'_

Chandler sighed deeply and turned around again. "But I guess that's not the way to convince you, right?"

Her expression of shocked and slightly amused disbelief now grew confused. "Of what?"

"If I get mad at you on behalf of my boss, that only means he wins again, and without even knowing this time. How ridiculous would that be?"

"Fairly ridiculous" she admitted grudgingly. "So what are you saying? That we shouldn't let this – this work thing interfere with our private lives?"

"Well – at least not to the point where it leaves us both with not getting any." That finally got him a smile and he found that he could breathe again. "Don't you see? All this - the laugh, the sucking up – it's just a work thing! And it should stay at work. We shouldn't fight about it. I've never gotten mad at you for the way you treat the people at your work, have I?"

"What do you mean, how I treat them? I don't suck up to them!"

"Oh? Really? You hired Joey just so you could fire him, because you couldn't do it with any of them!"

"That's different! If I had fired one of them they would have hated me even more."

"So? And by now they all love and respect you?"

"Um, no, they still pretty much hate me. But that's different!"

Chandler sighed. "No it's not. Not really. But I don't want to argue with you about it because it's your work. Your work, and it's up to you how you deal with it. Just like it's up to me how I deal with mine. Is that okay?" He watched her anxiously while she struggled with herself, not meeting his eyes and pouting, until she breathed out at last, letting her shoulders slump. Then he stepped closer to her, heaving a sigh of relief when she gave in.

"Yeah. I guess. I still hate that we lost, but you're right –"

"You didn't lose. I did. On purpose. You were awesome."

"Really?"

He spread his arms wide. "Are you kidding? You would have kicked their asses into Fifth Avenue if I hadn't interfered. Even so they barely made it!"

She smirked a little. "It was easier than I thought. If they hadn't let me walk all over them –"

"Yeah, I guess they're not used to anyone giving them a run for their money. Someone as hot as you too."

Now she was positively simpering. "You looked pretty nice too."

"Me? I don't remember Doug ogling my legs."

"He did that? I never noticed that!"

"I guess you were too busy chasing him all over the place. But he definitely did and who could blame him? Not me!" He put his hands on her waist and nestled closer. "That skirt was really hot. Do you think you could put it on again one more time? Just … for us?!"

Monica narrowed her eyes. "Hmm … do we have time? What about the others?"

"At the movies, remember?" He managed to open her jacket and gently cupped her breasts.

"Aw, that new Tom Hanks movie! With Meg Ryan! I wanted to see that too!"

"Me too. And we will, I promise. Now, about that skirt …?"

She grinned impishly and slowly let her hands slide down his chest. "Really? But it's all sweaty now …"

"Mmmmh, sweaty - !"

"… and dirty …!" with her lips close to his ear now.

"Oh my god!"

"… and … and wet …" Panting now and Chandler felt himself growing hot under his jacket.

"Stop, you're killing me! You're – ooommph – mmmph …" Now she pressed herself against him and kissed him in wild abandon, hooking her legs around his waist and trying to climb up him until he lifted her up with his hands under her buttocks and started to carry her into the general direction of her bedroom.

"Wait! The – the skirt's still in my bag – mmmh … oh yes … oh god-"

Panting hard now he swerved around, let her grab the bag from the kitchen table and then held her tightly to him as he headed for the bedroom once more, even trying to break into a run on the last yards.

.

.

When the buzzing phone under his pillow woke him, he spent almost half a minute flailing about and groping for it until he got it silenced at last and then sat up, biting back a groan at the last moment. That tennis match had taken more out of him than he had thought possible. Or maybe it had been the match with Monica afterwards? Or both? And how could Monica be wanting another round as early as – he glanced at the clock and did a double take. 6 a.m. already? Well, it was Sunday, which meant they had at least two hours before the others would even begin to wake up. Ross included, since he had still been out when they had gone to bed last night. If his day had been half as exhausting as his had been, sneaking past him should present less of a problem than usual …

In fact it was no problem at all. When Chandler eased his door open, holding his breath in his effort not to make any sound at all, and then inched his way through it, the sofa was still empty, as was the bathroom. Ross had obviously not gotten back during the night. Chandler hesitated for a moment, not sure how to proceed. What if Ross came back while he was still at Monica's and caught him on his return to his bedroom? He needed his robe at least, so he could claim to have been on a fridge raid. Or better a bathroom raid, for something like shampoo, since Ross was keeping their fridge quite well stocked these days.

Monica was already waiting by the door of her bedroom when he cautiously let himself into #20, drawing him in urgently when he came to her and pushing the door shut with her foot behind them.

"Heeyy … Mmmh … I'm sorry –" She was in her robe too, but, as he discovered soon enough, only in her robe, which made him almost groan aloud.

"Sorry? For what? Mmmh …"

"I wanted to let you sleep in, but then I just couldn't – mmmh – I just couldn't …"

"Aw. Yeah, me too. Mmmh – oh god, at least let me – oh. OH! Mmph-"

She was more or less ripping his clothes off him as she pushed him backwards towards the bed until he fell on it, and then climbed on top, wriggling and squirming over him while he stroked her back and buttocks and kissed her breasts and shoulders at the same time. Then she put her hands to his head, claiming his mouth and they kissed deeply and urgently, their tongues intertwining and pushing against each other until both their breaths gave out. When he let his fingers stray between her legs, the tip of his index finger finding and gently flicking her clitoris she almost went rigid and then relaxed again with a shudder, lying on him full length. After a little nudging and squirming she managed to take him inside her without sitting up, and they continued to gently and almost languidly move against each other without breaking the kiss. He felt her breasts press against his chest, her nipples like two hard nubs, and her heart hammering against her ribs under his hands as he stroked her back, holding her to him. After a while she started to whimper and squirm as her orgasm built up, but she still wouldn't let go of his mouth. Although he wanted nothing better than to let go, he grimly waited until she bucked under his hands and then heaved upwards and away from him, trembling in the aftermath as she straddled him, her knees pressing against his ribs. She grabbed his hands and held them away from her down on the bed and then rode out his last frantic thrusts until his own orgasm took hold. Then she slowly got off and they lay on their sides facing each other, legs intertwined and exchanging lazy kisses as their heartrates slowed down again.

.

He only woke again when Monica repeatedly shook him by his shoulders and finally cuffed him.

"Come on, get up! It's almost 8! Phoebe's going to be here any minute!"

"Mmmhh? But why … oh. Oh god." He groggily sat up and winced when the muscles in his arms and thighs made themselves felt. "Ouch … alright … where's my – ok, got it."

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. Just haven't – ouch – played tennis in a while."

"Since when?"

"Um … last summer?" Her frown deepened. "Year before last? No? Last … decade?"

"You really should play more often." Suddenly she brightened. "Maybe we could play! Say once a week, or …"

He grinned at her, letting his gaze travel upward from her bare feet to where her robe barely covered her cleavage. "Tennis? Really? When there's so much else we could be doing instead? Also, in case you've forgotten, you broke my racket."

"You could take Ross's."

"Not a good idea. Besides, I think Joey took his racket too – oh, shoot, Ross! I totally forgot!"

"What? What's with Ross?"

Chandler tore into his robe and hurried to the door. "He hadn't returned when I came over."

"WHAT?"

"Shhh! Rachel!"

"What do you mean he hadn't returned? Where did he go?"

"How should I know? He wanted to stay at home, but when we went to bed he was still out."

He cautiously put his head outside the door and then went into the living room, with Monica following him.

"Oh my god! What if something happened to him?"

"Well, maybe he's back by now. Let me check, okay?"

But when he let himself into #19, there was still no sign of Ross anywhere. Monica, who had followed him to the door, now started to look seriously alarmed.

"That's not like him! He wouldn't do that without telling us!"

"Shsh, calm down. Maybe he spent the night somewhere, at Carol's maybe?"

"They're visiting Susan's friend upstate. Oh god, what if he had an accident?"

"Hey, what's all that racket?" Joey had emerged from his room, blinking sleepily into the light. "Is it time for breakfast already?"

"Ross didn't come back! Did he say anything to you?"

"What? Ross? He didn't come back? But … but he wanted to read his book! He's not here?"

"No, unless he's hiding under your bed or hanging outside the window ..."

"What if something happened to him? Shouldn't we phone the hospitals?" Monica started to pace, wringing her hands, and Joey and Chandler exchanged a weary glance.

"I'm gonna get coffee." Joey headed determinedly for the kitchen and got the coffee jar out of the kitchen cabinet, inhaling the aroma deeply before starting to fill the receptacle of the machine. Then he suddenly snapped his fingers.

"Maybe he's over at Rachel's!"

"WHAT?"

"No way!"

"Well, we could at least check …"

"Joey, no! Wait, don't – oh, there you are, Rachel."

"What's going on?" Though Rachel still looked half asleep and kept yawning he noticed how quickly she took in his robe and the fact that Monica was still half naked under hers.

"Ross didn't come home last night!"

"What? But where could he be?"

"Didn't he tell you when he left?"

"No, I didn't see him. I thought he wanted to stay in."

"Yes, that's what we thought too!"

"I'm going to phone the hospitals –"

"No, Monica, wait. It's still early. He could still come back."

Joey suddenly snapped his fingers again. "Or, maybe he's at Phoebe's!"

"Wow, and you didn't even have your coffee yet!"

Monica took a deep breath. "Alright, let's wait for Phoebe. But if he isn't there –"

Chandler sighed. "Then we'll look for him. Right, I'm going to get dressed."

He was hunting for his sweats in his wardrobe when he heard the apartment door open.

"Hey! Oh yay, you're all up already! What's going on?"

"Phoebe! Have you seen Ross?"

"No, where is he?"

"We don't know. We thought you knew."

"But he wanted to read his book!"

So much for grabbing a shower before he went to look for Ross. Oh well, he had better get going, before Monica went ballistic. Or Joey came up with even more hiding places, like -

"Maybe we should check the trash chute."

"Ross couldn't fit down the trash chute!"

"That's right, he almost could. Which is exactly how I got stuck there!"

Oh that memorable day. He still couldn't decide whose face had been funnier, Joey's when he had realized that getting into the chute was as easy as getting out was impossible or Treeger's when he found out what was keeping him from his dinner.

He had just located his sneakers when he heard Ross come in at last, the others crowding in on him immediately and Monica of course starting to scold him at once like an errant schoolboy. He listened to their remonstrance and Ross bewildered replies while he tied his shoelaces. Since he was dressed now, he might as well go out and get bagels.

"You walked around all night in the city by yourself?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"He hooked up! He hooked up with someone!" Trust Joey to hit on the obvious.

"Look, I don't have to answer your questions! Okay? I'm a big boy, I can do whatever I want!"

"He hooooked up! Tell us about her!"

Right. If Joey was right, and Ross had indeed found someone, why that would be – actually great. It would mean that Ross would spend less time, and especially less nights, at home, and maybe even move out altogether?

He got so caught up in his fantasies of a Ross-free apartment that he only realized who else had entered the apartment when he heard her laughing and instinctively flattened himself against the wall of his bedroom, his heart suddenly racing. That Laugh. That Laugh that he still heard sometimes in his sleep, that Laugh that would forever put his best work laughs to shame. Janice's infamous laugh. But Janice? What was she doing here? Was she looking for him? How? Why?

"Uh-oh-okay. Uh-oh-okay. I know what you all are thinking. But Chandler is in Yemen! I'm a young woman! I have needs! I can't wait forever!"

What the hell?!

"Yeah! Now that's what I was thinking." Rachel said dryly.

"So I'm asking you please, take a moment before you judge me."

"Oh, nobody's judging you." That was Phoebe and Chandler suddenly wondered, if she was maybe judging him too along with Ross?

"Oh! Okay!" Janice tittered again. "You, Mister-Right-Place-at-the-Right-Time! Call me!" And she did that Laugh again. Oh dear god, Ross would call her, and at some point he would tell her that he, Chandler, wasn't in Yemen anymore, anything but, and then – and then …

"So I guess you finished your book." Joey sounded almost sarcastic. "Had some time on our hands, did we?"

"Okay, look, I - I know what you guys are going to say…"

"You two will have very hairy children." Chandler almost laughed out loud at Phoebe's earnest non sequitur.

"Okay, I didn't know you would say that!"

"But Ross! Janice?!"

"All right, hold on! Hold on. Hold on. This is Ross, okay? He's our friend. He obviously went crazy. He obviously lost his mind."

"Look, it's not that crazy, okay?"

Well no, actually it made all kinds of sense. To someone who was in a bad place, depressed and frustrated, forever at odds with himself and the world, Janice actually was a gift from heaven. She could be supportive and sympathetic, and always had been a great listener. It was quite easy to forget or blend out her annoying quirks if you felt there was nobody else left to turn to. Who knew this better than him? It was mostly that which made it so hard for him to confront her and tell her the truth – or even think about it. That and that Laugh of course. Janice's life laugh.

"But it's Janice! I mean, she's ... Janice! How drunk were you?"

"Okay, Janice and I have a lot in common! We've-we've both been divorced. We-we both have kids."

More and more sense. Funny how he had never realized that before. Until now he had always thought that Janice was his own particular Nemesis. Maybe this sudden hookup with Ross would give him a way out?

"So are you actually gonna see her again?"

"Phoebe! Don't put ideas in his head!"

"I **am** gonna see her again."

"Dammit Phoebe!" Poor Joey. In a way, Janice was an even bigger nightmare to him. He and Ross had chosen to be with her – and he even not once, not two, but three times altogether – but Joey had always had to suffer her through no fault of his own. He could only hope that Janice wouldn't think of dragging him through another 'day of fun' with her again.

"Right, if you don't mind, I'm gonna take a shower …" Chandler waited until Ross had gone into the bathroom, come back again to put the chick and the duck out and got a clean towel and finally shut the door. Then he strolled out of his bedroom as nonchalantly as possible.

"Bagels anyone?!"

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_A/N A big thank you as always to all my dear reviewers, be they Always-, Sometime- or One-time ones, and especially those of you I can't contact directly, like Grace, Rupeegal15, Judy and Kimprobable: I really appreciate and cherish every single review that tells me that my stories matter enough to you to let me know this. This chapter especially has been quite a head scratcher, but your reviews motivated me enough to keep going. We're definitely getting into the home stretch now and I promise to do everything possible to take this story to the finish line. So thanks again and cheers! _


	28. Laugh that Laugh, part 3

As usual, Monica was ready almost half an hour before she had to be. There was nothing left to do for her, so she fell back on her all time classic of checking and rechecking the contents of her handbag before leaving. Chandler and she had agreed to meet at the subway and take a cab from there to Doug's and Kara's place instead of leaving together which could look suspicious. Yes, Joey and Phoebe had seemed too wrapped up in that weird treasure hunt game with the chick and the duck (ugh – better not think too closely about that) to care overmuch about them and Ross had left again to meet up again with Janice (which didn't bear thinking about either), but Rachel had been so weird all day. Again. When Chandler had strolled out of his room so casually, with his hands in his pockets and his face carefully blank, she had kept staring at him almost hungrily, as if he had grown a tail all of a sudden. Or become another person altogether. It couldn't have been that thing with Ross and Janice (oh god …) because she had acted like this even before Janice turned up. So what could it be? Could she actually have come to suspect something after all? But how? Monica desperately needed to think it all through, but Ross going AWOL and then Janice turning up so suddenly out of the blue on top of that had left her shaken up so badly she couldn't concentrate. Janice. Chandler's … ex. And Ross. There it was. There was no way around it. She had to come to terms with that, wrap her head around it, or it would drive her crazy.

Unfortunately there had been no opportunity to talk to Chandler since then. When he left to get Bagels, her first impulse had been to follow him and talk with him in the hall, but then she had caught Rachel's intense stare and changed her mind. She would have to talk with him on the way to his boss's house, or after that dinner - that she now heartily wished she didn't need to go to. Could she plead sudden indisposition (maybe from a tennis ball hitting her head?) or a work emergency? But Chandler had made it clear that his boss had insisted on her presence, and that if she didn't accompany him there would be no point for him to go either, or even bother to show up for work after that. She highly doubted it would be that bad, but then she had no idea how much Chandler's standing at work could actually be affected by this stupid rigmarole. She hated to admit it, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about his work. Just that it was something with statistics and IT – whatever exactly that was – and that it involved a lot of work at the computer and occasional butt slapping from obnoxious bosses. She knew he had an assistant who seemed rather a dragon, that he called in sick a lot, and that he was earning quite a lot of money. She didn't quite know how much, but it had to be enough to cover the rent, Joey's part included, and leave enough over for food and all other expenses like those rather nice work clothes of his. Other than that she had no idea. And until now there had been no need to know anything about his work, but now that they were together it seemed like a pretty good idea for her to start exploring this aspect of his life as well.

Except she really didn't want to. She couldn't help it, but everything that she had witnessed so far simply disgusted her. The continuous playacting, the loud-mouthing, the swaggering, those crude jokes and faked smiles, all that groveling and sniveling in front of the bosses and later sneering and smirking behind their backs – and most of all that awful fake laughing really creeped her out. And to top it off, her last attempt to get some fun out of the whole thing had been spoilt when Chandler hadn't let her win at the tennis game. Okay, so she had gotten a bit carried away there. And why not really, when they had made it so laughably easy? But by the time she had realized that that whole weird work thing of Chandler's didn't stop at the main door of the Solow Building, but extended even to the tennis court, and that in this other world there was no such thing as a good honest contest of skills and stamina, only endless power games and intrigues, she had been too much on a roll to really care. And though she had come to see his side, her frustration at losing that game still stung a little. Well, quite a bit. Okay, a lot. Actually it still set her teeth on edge whenever she thought about it.

Now what about Janice? Should she even try to talk to Chandler about her or just wait until he mentioned her? He rarely talked about her as it was, and never about what had happened when he had to go to Yemen to escape her – she didn't even know if he really had had to go there all the way. And wasn't sure she wanted to know either …

And then Rachel rushed in suddenly, rapidly starting to talk almost before she had cleared the door.

"Okay, I-have-to-tell-you-something-that-I-have-never-admitted-during-our-entire-friendship-but-when-we-were-in-high-school-I-made-out-with-James-Farrell-even-when-I-knew-that-you-liked-him!" She got on a chair beside her and heaved a theatrical sigh. "Wow! That feels sooo good to get off my chest! Okay, you go!"

More weirdness. James Farrell? When had she ever liked that dumb bully? Hadn't he been Amy's boyfriend too? Just what the hell was going on with Rachel? This whole weirdness was starting to freak her out.

"My turn? What - what are you talking about?"

Rachel sighed rather dramatically. "Ugh, Monica … I know about you and Chandler."

Monica's slightly condescending smile froze and she felt a cold shiver creep down her spine. Oh my god. Oh my god. Rachel had found out. Impossibly, against all odds, unbelievably, she had found out – but how? How could she have? Had she seen something? Had Joey let something slip?

"**What?!**"

"I overheard you guys on the phone the other day, and you said, 'I'll just tell Rachel that I'm doing laundry for a couple of hours.' And he said, 'Laundry? Is **that** my new nickname?'" Monica had to admit that Rachel's personification of Chandler was quite apt. And funny.

"And you said, 'No! You know what your nickname is, Mr. Biiiig ...'"

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit … That stupid phone call. But at least she hadn't seen them, so maybe something could still be salvaged? It was worth a try. They just weren't ready yet! Plus she'd be damned if she just gave in to Rachel like that. Not without a fight.

"Well ..." She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Sounds like you're writing yourself a little play there, Rach." She shook her head and even managed to titter a little. "Wow! Let me know how that one turns out!"

Rachel's face fell. "Well, I wouldn't know because I got so freaked out that I hung up the phone."

Oh good, so there was hope yet. Rachel wasn't stupid, but she tended to be a pushover and if she just denied it hard enough, there was a chance she would cave in first. Monica slowly stood up and flipped the lid of her purse shut.

"Well, if you had kept listening, you … you would have heard me call him Mr. Big-gg-" She was thinking furiously now, come on now, something, anything starting with 'big' - Big Mouth? Hm …-ot."

Rachel's mouth fell open. "What?!"

"Mr. Bigot. He tells _the_ most **racist** jokes!" Not really perfect, but it had to be good enough. She simply couldn't cave in now. Not like this. Maybe if Rachel had gone about it differently, or hadn't just confronted her alone but together with Chandler – but not like this, behind his back and with that attitude. No way.

Now Rachel got up too and stood close to her, trying to stare her down, for all the good that would do.

"All right. So you're telling me that there is nothing going on between you and Chandler?"

"Me and Chandler?!" This had to be the first time ever that she was actually glad that Rachel and Phoebe didn't think very highly of her boyfriend. No matter how bad it made her feel, right now it definitely helped her adding that final touch of ridiculousness, of laughableness … ooh, laugh! Finally that work laugh became really useful, and she let go as hard as she could, rejoicing internally when Rachel cringed.

"Whew!" As a final touch she pretended to wipe a tear out of the corner of her eye. "Chandler? I really wonder what he would think about that? I guess I'd better not tell him. He might get ideas!"

Rachel frowned a little at that and swallowed. "But what about –"

"About what?" Monica looked at her watch. "I'm sorry, I have to go to work now. I'm late as it is. And no, don't worry, I won't tell Chandler. I really don't want to know what kind of joke he would make of that!"

Rachel slowly sat down again, avoiding her eyes. "Alright. When will you be back?"

"I don't know yet. I'll call you if it gets late." She took up her purse and collected her coat and scarf. When she left, Rachel still sat at the table, staring unseeingly into space.

.

.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Chandler asked in the cab, jerking her out of her pensiveness. "Or whatever rate thoughts go by these days?"

"Huh? Oh sorry, it's just –"

"Are you worried?"

"Worried? Why should I be worried?"

"You've poked three holes into that flower wrap already and I've almost lost all feeling in my right hand, so ..."

"Oh." She let go of the wrapping paper and tried to withdraw her hand from his, but he held on, retrieving the bouquet from her lap at the same time.

"No, it's okay, it's not that dinner, just … something else that came up. I don't want to talk about it here."

"Well, I'm relieved that it's not my boss you're worried about. I thought you were already plotting your revenge for that tennis match."

"No, don't worry, they're safe from me. Unless they'll slap my butt too. I can't answer for myself if they do that."

"Aw, and I was hoping my butt would get a little break." He sighed deeply. "I don't think they'll go that far though, not at the first dinner date. But you should try and keep out of their reach at little just the same."

"Right. Just as a precaution of course."

"So what is it? Is it Janice? Oh god, it is, isn't it? I can't blame you, I'm still freaked out."

"No, not Janice. Although, yeah, I'm freaked too. I just can't believe Ross hooked up with her." She saw him suppressing his laughter and cuffed him. "That's not funny!"

He chuckled and tried to turn it into a cough. "Sorry. I know. And yet it is funny. Sorry, I just tried to picture them together – and – and – oh god …" He nearly doubled over with laughter again.

"Why? Why is that funny? She's your – your ex-girlfriend!"

"I know. I know. That I had to go to Yemen to finally escape her. I wonder where Ross will have to go to? The South Pole?"

"Then you really did go to Yemen?"

Chandler grimaced. "Well … almost. I got a ticket, I got on the plane, I even made friends with an old lady at boarding and asked if I could stay with her in Yemen. Turned out she was just going to Paris, and that's where I ended up too."

"In Paris? You went to Paris?"

"It was the first stopover. When I managed to get off the plane, I fell to my knees and kissed the ground. And then I had to wait five hours for the next flight back."

"Aw. But at least you got to Paris."

"To the airport. I spent most of those five hours trying to reroute my luggage."

"Oh my god! I remember, you almost had nothing to wear for a week."

Chandler winced. "Yeah. So excuse me for not getting all worked up about it. If it wasn't so funny, it would drive me bonkers."

She was sorely tempted then to ask him outright why he had gone to such absurd lengths in the first place, but held back at the last moment. Who was she to judge? She had plenty of these over the top stupid actions like that in her own past. And who was to say she wouldn't have done the same in his place? And he was right – Ross would probably even top that and go to the South Pole. Or the moon even.

Before she could think of further refuge places, the cab came to a halt in front of what looked like a mile long driveway, and she took over the bottle of wine and bouquet from Chandler while he paid the driver, grabbing for his hand as soon as he had finished. He grinned at her reassuringly.

"Don't worry, we'll always have Paris."

If only.

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.

Two hours later she felt like taking a trip to Yemen herself, voluntarily, on a weekly basis, if it could get her out of there any sooner – like right now. True, she had not gotten her butt slapped. But that was really the only upside about the whole ridiculous charade. There had been countless more stupid jokes and hollow phrases, what felt like endless loops of meaningless small talk, interspersed with seemingly harmless but often quite searching personal questions, a lot of rather boring food, and on top of it all an interminable flood of that creepy laughter. The work laugh, from Chandler, Doug, his wife and occasionally from herself too, whenever she saw no other way to react to a particularly obnoxious joke or wearying banter. By the time they had gotten to desserts, she felt a headache building up from a spot between and behind her eyes and spreading out from there in slow pulsing waves. Too bad the one thing she had forgotten to put in her purse were her headache pills.

"But seriously, I believe that we should all support President Clinton. And her husband Bill." She really had to give it to Chandler, even after two hours straight of those bad, ludicrous jokes he kept his work laugh going strong, never once flagging. Even considering how much practice he'd had it was quite a feat.

"So how do you kids like your coffee?" Kara asked.

"Oh, none for me. Thanks." Coffee would only make matters worse with her headache.

"Just a little bit of sugar." Chandler said and Doug grinned broadly.

"Well, maybe I'll bring it out and have Monica stick her finger in it. That oughta sweeten it up, huh?"

More laughing, and now it made her teeth ache too. As soon as the buttslappers had left, she turned to Chandler exasperatedly.

"HOW does that laugh not give you a headache?"

He just shrugged dismissively. "Oh, you get used to it."

No thanks. Not if she could help it.

"You know, I - I don't think that I can. So if you don't mind, maybe this will be it for me on the work things."

Now he looked irritated. "So I laugh at my boss's jokes, what's the big deal?"

"I'd rather not hang out with a sniveling work weasel guy when I can be hanging out with my boyfriend who I actually respect."

Even though it irritated her a little to see his surprise (how could he still think himself not worthy of her respect?) she loved how his eyes widened as he realized what she had just said. It made her badly want to kiss him. Too bad Doug had to come back in with the coffees just then.

"Uh, I gotta apologize for Kara's coffee. You know, I feel sorry for it if it ever got in a fight, it's not strong enough to defend itself!"

It almost came as a shock to her when Chandler stayed silent. It definitely was a shock for Doug.

"Did you hear what I said, Bing?"

"What?" Oh my god, he really meant to pull this off. Of all the times to prove himself to her, he had to choose now.

"The joke, Bing. What's the matter with you?!" Doug's brows were knitting together ominously and yet Chandler stood his ground, facing him quite innocently.

"Well, I-I just didn't think it was funny sir."

Doug's face almost made her stomach turn over. Why why why had she spoken up? This was definitely not worth it.

"Excuse me?" Maybe if she laughed? Or pretended to have a cramp or something?

"Well, I just …"

No, there was only one thing she could do.

"Honey, I just don't think that you understood the joke."

Chandler blinked at her, playing along.

"Really?"

"Yeah! I mean it was really funny, I-I just don't think you got it. You see Kara's coffee is-is weak tasting, okay?" Oh god, was she laying it on too thick? "But - but what Doug was - was imply that it was weak physically. You get it now, honey?" And also that I have got it too, thank you very much?

"I think I do!" Chandler exclaimed with a broad grin, patting her back and then drawing her to him, while their combined work laughs mingled with the delayed self-congratulatory laughter from Doug. "Thank you, Monica!"

"I thought you could use the help!" And please let that be the end of it. If she got out of this with her sanity still intact, she would never ever criticize Chandler for his behavior at work again. Or even so much as mention anything work related to him ever.

"Coffee in a fight!"

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.

At last, after innumerable more horrible jokes and tedious anecdotes it was over and they could take their leave, or rather escape. By the time they arrived in Bedford St. her headache had almost gone and when they walked up the stairs she found herself almost hurrying and pulling Chandler along. When he stopped on a landing to catch his breath she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

"What's the big hurry? Oh. Mmmh. Um, but could you explain it to me one more time, I'm not sure I got it – ouch. Ah now I see."

"I don't think you do. I think you need a more – graphic explanation."

"Ah. Possibly coupled with a physical demonstration? Sounds about right. Whose bedroom would you say is more suited for this, yours or mine?"

"I think Rachel's still in, so yours … oh shoot, I totally forgot about Rachel!"

"What about her?"

"That was what I wanted to talk to you about earlier …" They had arrived at their apartment doors and she let go of him reluctantly as soon as they came within range of the spyholes. Chandler opened the door of #19 and the way his shoulders slumped told her that Joey too was at home even before she caught sight of him slouching on his Barcalounger with some comic books while the chick and the duck chased each other around the room.

"Hey man!"

"Hey!" Joey grinned at them and then his face clouded. "Um, so, are you gonna hang out? Cause I wanted to read my book …"

"Well, Rachel is home, so we're kinda stuck with my room." Chandler hooked his arm around her waist and gently steered her towards his bedroom. "Don't worry, we'll try to keep it down."

Joey just rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. Just as she was about to enter Chandler's room, Monica stopped and turned around again.

"And Joey? Um … you know, if Ross should come, could you maybe warn us? You know, make a noise or something?"

Joey rolled his eyes again, grumbling something that sounded vaguely like assent, and then heaved himself up and trudged to his room, herding the birds in front of him. Chandler closed the door after her and drew her to him, putting his arms around her. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but found herself too tightly wound. That she still could hear Joey rummaging around his room and talking to the birds didn't help matters.

"I'm sorry, I can't ... Guess it was a bad idea. We should leave it."

"I know. Shsh. It's okay." Chandler rubbed her back. "Let's just hang a bit. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. All that laughing really took it out of me."

She snorted and sat on the bed. "Yeah. I'm glad it's over and we survived. And came out of it in one piece."

Chandler squatted before her and gently took off her shoes one by one. "Are you sure you don't want anything? Juice? Coffee?"

"No, it's okay. I just need to unwind … oh, and I meant to talk to you about Rachel." She lay down on the bed, trying to get comfortable and then sat up again to take off her cardigan and then her pants, and put them on his hamper. Chandler grinned at that and started to take off his sweater and pants too, stretching out on his bed afterwards.

"I haven't seen those before, are they new?" She held out the red checkered boxers she had found on the hamper.

"No, I found them under my tennis things yesterday." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "They look quite good on you though."

"Really?" She hesitated for a moment and then shrugged and stepped into the boxers. They were not as big as she had feared and fit her quite well actually, thanks to the elastic band, and she felt more comfortable wearing them than with just her panties. Chandler pretended to pant and let his tongue hang out, and then held out his arms to her as she joined him on the bed. For a while they snuggled close, giggling and moaning, kissing deeply, and gradually her tension started to dissolve. At last she relaxed against him, resting her head on his arm.

"Rachel overheard us on the phone."

"What? When?"

"When I called you two weeks ago, you know, when Ben was here."

"Oh, that. How could she hear that?"

"She picked up the other phone. Actually she just caught the part where I called you 'Mr. Big'."

As she'd predicted, Chandler guffawed. "Really?"

She cuffed him. "It's not funny!"

"So now she knows? Did you -?"

"No! I told her she made a mistake and that I'd called you 'Mr. Bigot'."

"What? Why?"

"It was the only thing I could think of. Mr. Bigot. Because you make racist jokes."

"What?"

"Well, what would you have said in my place?"

"Hmm. That's tricky. Mr. Biiggg …. Foot? No? Mr. Big Mac? Yeah, I see what you mean." He sighed deeply. "All right, so you're telling me that I have to tell racist jokes now?!"

"Sorry! I'm just—I'm not very good at this! I'm a terrible liar and I hate having to lie to Rachel!"

And not just to lie. Also to distance herself from her with every day she kept her secret, lived her other life without involving her, without sharing everything as she had done before. Before that other life, now exactly 17 weeks ago. Every day that passed made her feel that the gap was widening ever more until it would not be possible to bridge it again, to get back what they'd had before …

"But we're not ready to tell yet!"

"I know! It's just that … ever since high school Rachel was the one person I told everything too. You know?" And to make it even worse, there had never been anyone else she'd been so close with. Even with Phoebe she had never been able to achieve that total understanding and familiarity. Rachel and her had been kids together, had been best friends forever when Rachel still had her big nose and she ... had been fat.

"I miss that so much now. She's my best friend."

But how could she hope to explain that to Chandler? He never had a best friend when he was a kid –

A crashing noise from the living room jerked her out of her musings and her first panicked thought was that it was Joey trying to warn them about something. She had jumped out of the bed and rushed into the living room before she had even begun to realize what she was doing. And then only to find herself face to face with -

"Joey?! Oh my God, Rachel!"

Rachel. Rachel holding the table lamp, or better the two parts into which it had separated, and staring at her with a very odd expression. Almost embarrassed somehow, just as if she was the one caught out now and not Monica. Which was really absurd. Or was it?

"Hey! Hi!"

"What - what are you doing here?" Monica closed the bedroom door almost without thinking about it. In fact she found it hard to think clearly. Everything in her screamed at her to act it out, go on pretending, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have come out of Chandler's room at night, in, oh god, only her underwear, and his boxers too on top of it … She was so flustered that it actually took her a while to notice that Rachel instead of calling her out was actually playing along. And even looked quite flustered too, and, yes, very embarrassed.

"Well, I was actually — I-I came over here to - to borrow this lamp. To umm, look at my books, you know, see them a little better ...!"

Monika suddenly felt surreal. Could this really be happening? Could Rachel really be so blind? Her best, closest, longest friend?

Of course not. The very thought was absurd. And yet it really looked like Rachel offering her an out, a willingness to play the game if only she could think of something to keep the pretense up …

"Great! Umm, well what-what I was doing in Chandler's room is that … umm, I was cleaning it! In fact, he pays me to clean it!"

As lies went it wasn't really all that bad. She didn't need to convince Rachel anyway, the only thing that mattered now was that Chandler bought it. Somehow she knew that that was what really counted now. He mustn't know. Not yet.

Because they were not ready yet.

And Rachel, bless her, continued to play along.

"Oh! What a great way to earn some extra pocket money!"

Okay, you're doing great, keep it up …

"When I said to you earlier that I was at work? Umm, I meant my new work!"

"Good enough!" Now Rachel sounded almost enthusiastic. "Right?" And for a long moment their eyes met and locked, something like a silent message passing between them.

_I'm sorry, so sorry, but I can't, I really can't …_

_I'm sorry too, I screwed it up, its alright …_

Rachel abruptly turned away, putting on a false smile. "Okay, well umm, I'm gonna go look at my books!"

"Okay." There was so much she wanted to say, but couldn't. Because of Chandler … and because somehow she couldn't find her breath yet.

"Okay." More fake cheer. Monica weakly gestured at the bedroom door.

"I'll get back to my new job!"

Rachel nodded and hesitated, wavering for just a moment, and then rushing at her quite unexpectedly and giving her a quick breathless hug.

"Congratulations on your new job ...!"

Quite confused now but also relieved, Monica hugged her back and then watched as Rachel hurried to the door and left without looking back. Well. So much for Rachel. She still felt that she could have handled it better somehow. But it would have to do.

And here was Chandler. Please god, don't let him have noticed …

"Man, she is really gullible!"

Nope, he hadn't, and the relief almost made her giddy. She grinned, motioning with her hand how much it had all gone over Rachel's head, and then turned to him and pulled him close so hard he nearly lost his footing, crushing his protest with her kiss. He had crossed his arms on his chest and almost had to tear them apart before putting them around her. She pressed against him urgently and then started to push him backwards through the door again, kicking it shut behind them. The bed rattled and creaked alarmingly when they fell on it heavily, still kissing, and she straddled him, pressing her thighs against his waist and rubbing herself on his erection that already poked out of his boxers. When he heaved her up and over, pinning her down while he tugged the boxers and panties off her, she squirmed and whimpered, wrapping her legs around him and clenching her hands in the fabric of his t-shirt over his back. She felt more than she heard him panting and groaning as he pushed his hands under her buttocks to hold her up, his erection pressing against her searchingly. He didn't even bother to remove his boxers, but pushed into her as deep as he could and then held himself still for a moment, gathering her to him and deepening the kiss again.


	29. Anniversaries

You had to hand it to Ross, even after all that time he had known him he was still capable of surprising him. Chandler had thought that his roommate would either try to avoid the subject of Janice altogether or at least drag it out for a while like say a week until he mentioned it to him. But none of that. When Monica had left after their passionate round in his bedroom on their return from dinner at Doug and Kara's, he'd barely had time to shower and change before Ross came in, just as he'd settled down in his Barcalounger, ostensibly to read the Sunday paper, but really just to relax in post-coital bliss, maybe reminisce a little. Or a lot. And then instead of just watching TV or reading Ross handed him a beer and sat down facing him.

"Dude, we got to talk."

"Okay." As he accepted the beer Chandler wondered if Ross wanted to ask him if he could stay at their place for good, never bothering with apartment hunting anymore. It seemed hardly possible, but then this was Ross … But no.

"I just wanted to tell you something before you heard it from someone else and I hope this isn't too weird, but uh, I had uh … a thing with Janice."

Right. A thing. With Janice. Janice of the inch-long fingernails, the masses of overdone hair, the buzz saw voice and **_That Laugh_**. Janice and Ross. Even this morning he'd had trouble wrapping his head around it and now with Ross sitting at the counter and looking at him so earnestly it seemed more absurd still. And hilarious. Actually he couldn't help laughing out loud, and noting how good it felt not to have to fake his laughter this time. When he saw Ross' puzzled face, he laughed even harder.

"What, you're not mad?!"

"Why would I be mad?" Now Chandler was surprised. Surely even Ross couldn't believe he still was remotely interested in that woman, after all the trouble he'd gone to get rid of her? But apparently he did believe in etiquette.

"Well, because you know there are certain rules about this kind of stuff. You don't uh, you don't fool around with your, uh, friend's ex-girlfriends, or possible girlfriends …"

Looking at it this way Chandler had to concede it really made sense and he nodded agreeably.

"… or girls they're related to."

He'd almost started to nod when the implication of that third rule hit him and he froze. Oh shit. What now?

"I **am** mad!" He got up, facing Ross squarely. "But you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna forgive you! Because that's what friends do! They forgive their friends when they do everything you just said, all on the list there." Especially and foremost that with the related girls … "Well, but I want you to remember that **I** forgave you."

Ross smiled a little uncertainly. "Okay."

Not good enough. He really needed to make sure Ross wouldn't forget once the day came. If it ever came – well, better safe than sorry.

"I also want you to remember that I let you live here rent free!"

"All right." Actually Ross had offered to pay, but he had waved it, a fact he was intensely grateful for now. But there had to be more he could use to drive this home into Ross' thick skull …

"And, I want you to remember that I gave you –" he frantically dug through his pockets "twenty ... seven dollars! No strings attached. Now, if you can't remember that, I think we should write it down—let's write it down!"

"Dude, calm down, okay?" Ross held him back as he hunted for a pad, pocketing the money regardless. "I think I know what this is about."

Chandler froze again. "You do?!"

"Yes, and there's no need to worry. I didn't tell Janice that you're not really in Yemen and I'm not going to either."

"Oh." Chandler heaved a sigh of relief that wasn't entirely faked. "Well … thanks."

"You're welcome." Ross put his head to the side, frowning at him. "I mean, not that it's any of my business, but what was so hard about ending it with her that you had to go to Yemen?"

Chandler took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, trying to stare him down. When Ross didn't budge, he sighed.

"You're right – in that it's not your business."

"Okay." Ross shrugged and drank some beer, as if he really couldn't care less.

"Anyway, you'll find out yourself once you want to dump her, and can't, because she won't let you."

And now Ross smirked at him. What the hell?

"No, I won't. She already dumped me."

"What?! Why?"

"She couldn't, and I quote "take another second of my whining!" Ross grinned wryly. "Ironic, isn't it?** I** annoyed **her** so much that she needed to end it."

Chandler sat down again, for once at a loss for words, as Ross grew serious again. "And that's when I realized how whiney I had become. I mean it was really an eye opener. And I'm sorry you all had to put up with that for so long. I'll try to do better now."

"That's okay, Ross, you don't need –"

"But I do! I know I've been slacking and now I really want to start over. You know, get my job back, find a new apartment and all that ..."

Chandler abruptly cut off his protests and nodded agreeably. "Actually, that sounds really … um, awesome! I mean, not that you're not welcome here, and I'm sure our fridge and the couch will really miss you, but …"

"Yes. You're right. An apartment. I'll make that my priority now." Ross took up the paper. "Is that today's? What's today anyway?"

"The 17th. and no, it's last week's – I think the duck ate today's."

Ross sighed. "Right. Guess there's someone who really won't miss me, huh?"

Chandler nodded absently, suddenly distracted. The 17th. That meant tomorrow was the 18th. Anniversary time again. And they both had almost forgotten it.

.

.

"Happy four months anniversary!"

"Chandler! You fri - - um, what? Oh my god! I totally forgot!"

"Sh. Yeah, me too almost." Chandler hurriedly stripped off his socks and crawled under the covers, nestling up to Monica and soaking up the heat from her body.

"What time is it – oh. Why are you so early?"

"I guess Janice must have really tired your brother out today."

"Ugh." Monica almost flinched. "There's an image."

"Yeah. But don't worry, it's over already. She dumped him."

"What?!"

"Sh! Rachel!"

"Oh … um. But, wow, seriously? She dumped him?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it? She couldn't stand his whining any longer. God, why didn't I think of that? I never would have needed to go to Yemen!"

"Maybe it wouldn't have worked. She knows you much better than Ross."

"Maybe. But what really bugs me is that I actually had a lot to whine about and didn't."

"You? But what – oh. Right. That was after you broke up with -"

"Kathy. Yeah, well, and now I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe, but I never wanted to even think about it again. Besides, it's so long ago now."

"A year, wasn't it? Or thereabouts."

"Minus a couple of weeks. Oops, another anniversary. But one I definitely don't want to celebrate."

"No, me neither. What else happened a year ago? Oooh, I know! Phoebe got the triplets implanted! That's definitely worth celebrating!"

"You're right. That was some weeks after Christmas. I still remember how she sat upside down on the chair."

"To let gravity do its job." Monica chuckled and then suddenly stiffened in his arms.

"What is it?"

"Um, nothing. I just … remembered something else that happened then."

"Oh? On that day?"

"Yeah. And I wanted to forget about that too."

"But what … OH! Of course, that! The apartment switch!"

Monica winced. "Please …!"

"I know." He drew her closer to him. "It must have been horrible for you. I still don't understand why you went through with it."

"Huh? We lost the bet!"

"But still, giving up the apartment … I don't think we would have gotten rid of the chick if we'd lost."

"We would have made you. Well, Rachel probably more than me."

"Maybe." He stroked her hair and let his hand slide down over her shoulders to the small of her back. "Well, for what it's worth, I did enjoy living here, but it always felt – weird."

Monica chuckled. "And yet you got so mad when we took it back. I've never seen you so upset."

"I just felt cheated, because it really is a great apartment. Even if Joey beat me to your bedroom."

"Right, I forgot. You were in Rachel's room. But at least I was in yours."

"So you were." And just like that he remembered coming back to his old room after the Knicks game when the girls had switched back and presented them with a fait accompli. Everything had been just like it was before, every piece of furniture in its accustomed place and yet it seemed different, as if the atmosphere, the feel of the room had changed. As if in the few months she'd lived there Monica had managed to make the room more habitable, warmer, more inviting somehow. And on the heels of that memory came another that made him shift uncomfortably.

"What?"

"Um … nothing."

"What? Chandler? No secrets, remember?"

He winced. "Okay. When I was back in my room, before going to sleep, I … thought about you."

"Aw, that's so sweet … but, wait a moment - what?"

"Well, not about you – you know, you as my friend, my neighbor, but … well, that you had been there, slept there, been naked …"

"Oh my god. You – you didn't … did you?"

Chandler groaned. "Maybe. Kinda. Just once or twice … it was just a fantasy, nothing more."

Monica drew back a little, staring at him. "Really? You had … fantasies about me?"

"Sometimes – yeah. I mean, considering how hot you were, um, you are …"

"Wow. But I felt so bad in those days. So low. Everything was going wrong for me, I hated my job, I lost my apartment, I wasn't the hostess anymore …"

"Aw. I'm sorry -"

"And now you're telling me you still thought I was hot?" She lowered her head until their noses touched and brushed her lips across his. "If only I had known that …"

"What then?"

She smiled. "I don't know. But I'd have felt a lot better. About everything … So tell me, what kind of fantasies?"

"Huh? Just … stuff."

"About what exactly?"

"Jeez, Monica … well, about you sleeping naked … in my bed, and dreaming … or you know, doing it with yourself …"

Monica grinned wryly. "Wow, and to think that for most of the time I didn't even have a bed in there!"

"Yeah, well, it had nothing to do with reality. It was really just fantasy."

"And did you also …?"

"What do you think?"

"Wow." Monica sighed. "I can't believe it. I was feeling so low at the time. So … worthless. No really. I spent two days fixing your apartment and almost killed myself over it, but it didn't help really. I didn't feel hot at all."

"But you were. You turned me on so much."

"What? How?"

Chandler tightened his hold on her and brushed his lips across her neck.

"A two … a one, two, three … a three, a five - a four, a three-two …"

"Oh my god!"

"… a two, a two-four-six, two-four-six … hold still, I'm losing count! … okay, two-four-six … four - a two was it? Right … four-seven, five-seven …"

"Aaargh, stop it …"

"Really?"

"NO!"

"Six-seven; seven, seven, SEVEN, SEVEN, SEVEN-SEVEN-SEVEN - - -!"

"Oh god. Oh god. You're right, that was … actually that's – that's another anniversary, isn't it?"

"And the best of all. You know ever since then just thinking about 'seven' would do it for me already."

Monica pressed her face against his chest, stifling her laughter. "Oh god, yeah, I got myself so turned on that time. Umm … yeah, like that … oh god. Oohh … And Rachel too, she couldn't look at me for hours afterwards …"

"Me too. I nearly didn't make it to the bathroom in time." He held her tightly and turned over with her, pinning her beneath him and kissing her, groaning when he felt her thigh rubbing against his hip, her foot pressing against his butt cheeks. For a while they shifted around, adjusting and fitting themselves into each other, then they kissed deeply, their tongues entwining while he slid into her, feeling rather as if she sucked him in and trapped him inside her. Almost immediately he felt himself teetering on the brink of climaxing and had to hold himself back with every last ounce of strength he could muster. Monica squirming and bucking under him only added to the sweet torture. Just when he thought his breath would give out and he wouldn't be able to go on, she became still again, stiffening and he managed just in time to clamp a hand on her mouth to stifle her scream. And then he had to press his own mouth against her pillow to stop himself from shouting out loud as his own orgasm hit.

.

When Monica's alarm went, rudely rousing them both from their aftermath stupor, it seemed to him as if only minutes had passed after they'd let go of each other and, relaxing and spooning, fallen asleep. Instead it was early morning already, Monday morning, the start of their 18th week together. And their four month anniversary.

Four months. October, November, December, January. Four months! And long months at that. It was the longest he had ever been with a woman. Including Janice. It was unbelievable. If only they could celebrate it a little longer …

"Hey!" Monica cuffed him gently. "You need to go."

"Umm. Right. Oh god … Um, wait, you don't have to work today, do you?"

Monica looked surprised. "You're right! I totally forgot. But you have to, don't you?"

Chandler sighed deeply. "Looks like it. I really wish I could phone in sick, but Doug would probably think he gave me food poisoning."

Monica winced. "You're sure he'll notice?"

"I'm afraid so. Come to think of it, I got a meeting today too. But I could leave after that!"

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah. And this way we'll have the whole afternoon to ourselves and the whole morning to think of things to do."

Her eyes sparkled. "I can think of a bunch of things already now. Mmmh … a nice hors-d'oeuvre … followed by two, maybe three courses, very spicy of course, and juicy …"

"Ah, yes. Maybe a nice game of Hide and Seek?"

"Or Blind Man's Buff?! Wow, so that's two courses settled already!"

"Will there be dessert too?"

"Oh, there'll be dessert. Trust me. I always serve dessert!"

Chandler closed his eyes and sighed in deep bliss.


	30. Massages for the Soul, part 1

When Monica woke up, it was still early, just 4.35 a.m. All was quiet, almost deadly silent and very dark. Chandler was lying beside her on his side with his back turned to her and she had to strain her ears to catch his deep slow breathing. So it couldn't have been anything from him that had woken her up, and for a long moment she couldn't think of anything else that could have roused her from sleep so suddenly when all was that peaceful – until she could and almost groaned aloud, squeezing her eyes shut again resignedly for a moment. But of course it was no use, never had been, so she took a deep breath and started very slowly and carefully to get out of the bed. Her pajamas would probably take too much time to locate from wherever they had landed when Chandler had flung them over his shoulder after tugging them away from her, but her robe was still on the chair near the bed, together with the panties and her stretch shorts she had put there the night before. She hurriedly slipped them on, relieved that she had once again avoided to make a mess, then shrugged into the robe and silently left the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as possible, thankful that Chandler hadn't stirred.

In the bathroom she was again relieved – and a little smug too – to find that her period had hardly started yet, that once again she had woken early enough to catch it before it could cause a mess. That was still her biggest concern about the whole business. Indeed, before London she had always gone to bed in her panties with a big pad under her pajamas in the night before her period was due, but now she simply couldn't bring herself to miss one last round of sex with Chandler, even at the risk of making a mess, and instead had relied on her ability to wake before the worst could happen. Which wasn't really as bad as all that, she did know that. The world wouldn't end if she missed the onset of her period for once and bled on her bed. Or on Chandler. Nothing really horrible could ever happen. Actually it had happened once, and in Chandler's bed of all places too, and everything had turned out fine. He had been understanding and very solicitous too and had even got her to relax again and – almost – forget about it. But still. She simply couldn't allow it to happen as long as there was something she could do to avoid it. She just couldn't, period. Pun not intended, but very fitting.

So she had succeeded once more. Everything had worked out like clockwork again, Chandler had managed to sneak over quite early for an intense and very satisfying session, and hardly an hour after she'd given him the "all clear" on his phone as soon as Rachel had gone to bed. Which was a bit unusual for her on a Friday night, and had made Monica wish once more she could allow herself to have a good long talk-out with her just to have things between them like they were before. Or at least a little more relaxed and normal than now where they could hardly look at each other without tensing and holding back. Ever since their confrontation at Chandler's bedroom door Rachel especially seemed to go out of her way to avoid her. But she just couldn't seem to bring herself to take the first step, couldn't even see a way to go about it, and so she kept telling herself that it was still too early. They needed more time. After all, if Joey knew and now Rachel too, it couldn't be much longer before Phoebe caught on too. Indeed it was a wonder that she hadn't so far. True, there had always been something to distract her – the triplets, her postnatal depression, her struggle to get back to the life as it had been before her pregnancy, and, lately, her worries about her grandmother, but if she'd had to pick anyone to figure them out it was Phoebe. It was probably her always being so opinionated about people, especially her friends that had let them escape her notice. She hated to be proven wrong about anything she thought about them. If it continued to blind her for the time being, that was all to the good.

She returned to her bedroom to find that Chandler still hadn't moved, and carefully got into her bed again, sliding under the covers and snuggling against his back as gently as possible, blissfully enjoying his warmth. He had drawn up his legs a little which enabled her to fit his buttocks against her lap while her breasts touched his back under his shoulder blades and her mouth came to rest against his nape, marveling once more for the umpteenth time at how good it felt. How perfect even his back was for her, just broad enough for her and so smooth and cuddly. How right, even now. Or especially now. With all her other boyfriends before she had always tried to hide her period from them, finding excuses not to be with them and never letting them take any part in it. Maybe it was a Jewish thing, or a kind of ineradicable sense of shame at being 'messy' (unclean, her treacherous mind whispered, making her wince before she managed to push the hateful thought away) and somehow handicapped, or both and other things besides. And all of them until Chandler had let her get away with it, accepting and maybe even agreeing with her that it should remain hidden and unmentioned. Richard too, though he had been a little more understanding – he had been married for a long time after all – but he had never even tried to change her mind. Like Chandler had.

Now she started to relax and drift away again, secure in the knowledge that everything was taken care of and they had at least two hours more of sleep – or even more, since it was Saturday and no one would was apt to rise before 8. Mmmh, Saturday. Yesterday had marked the end of their 18th week since their first night in London and tomorrow would conclude the 18th week of their being together here at home in New York as a true couple. Then the 19th week would start. 18 weeks completed, more than four months, and no end in sight. It was too good to be true. How could she have gotten so lucky? Just last week Chandler had inadvertently reminded her of how she had been one year ago. How miserable and despairing of ever getting truly happy again, forever seeking ways to cheer herself up by finding things to obsess about like that damn switch in the guy's apartment or rooting for Ross and Emily against all better judgement. There had been times, especially during those lonely uncomfortable nights in Chandler's bedroom, when she had seriously considered going back to Richard for another fling, or at least a round of comfort sex, and in the end only the thought of Timothy had held her back. Wearing Emily's wedding dress had been the crowning of it all. Yes, it was rather sad really, pathetic and foolish even after Phoebe and Rachel joined her – but in the end, sooo good. And now the bad times were finally behind her. She had a boyfriend again, and what's more had been together with him for longer now than she had been with Richard, their one week of almost but not quite getting together (hadn't that also occurred around this time of the year, two years ago now?) included. And no end in sight. Of course it was too early to rejoice, but … still.

She only noticed that Chandler had woken when he moved his arm over hers on his waist and his hand closed around hers, pressing it against his chest. She felt his buttocks strain a little against her, rubbing over her stretch pants, before he went still again.

"Um …hummmh?"

"Mmmh …" she agreed, smiling. And marveling that she could.

"Ah." He stretched a little, entwining his legs with hers. "About time the sailor got a break."

"… Sailor?"

"Well, Joey's already got through all the army ranks, so I'm orienting myself towards the Navy …"

"Yes, but sailor? Shouldn't it be at least, what, lieutenant? Or … helmsman?"

"Really? I thought sailor was sort of generic. But you're right, it should really be captain by now. Oh captain my captain …"

She let her hand slide towards his groin and gently rested the tips of her fingers on his penis. "Why just captain? And not admiral?"

"Nah. Admiral's … mostly a desk job. At least in Star Trek. Captain's better. A captain with my own ship, or plane …"

"Or space ship …"

"Yeah. Disembarking for the great voyage, navigating all the unknown waters – like the Red Sea … ouch. Ugh, not so hard, do you want the captain to abandon ship again?"

"Sorry." She loosened her fingers again and stroked him soothingly, but couldn't help shuddering a little. "And sorry again, you're welcome to all my waters, but the Red Sea … no."

"Duly noted." Chandler seemed quite unperturbed. "Just as long as you know it's no problem. Not for me and not for the captain either. Oh, what if I called him Moses?"

"Chandler …!" And yet for a moment she was tempted, if just a little. The thought of going without for at least four days, even with the other stuff they fell back on during those times, already made her ache for him, even though they'd done it less than four hours ago. It just went to show how used she had become to it. Before London she had gone a whole year without and survived.

"Shshsh …" Chandler turned around and pulled her close. "It's okay."

She sighed, returning his kiss. "Well, not now. Maybe … sometime. I still can't get used to the idea, not yet."

"I know. Forget it. So it's not yet Exodus time, big deal."

"I'll make it up to you" she promised, snuggling closer and hooking a leg over his hips.

"I know. And I'm sure we'll find something. How about I give you a massage now? Does it hurt already?"

"Not yet – although … well … but you really don't need to."

"Oh, come on, a little massage can't hurt. There. How does that feel?"

"Ummmm. Oh. So good. Ummm … Hey, I know!"

"What?"

"How about I give you a massage?"

"You? There's an idea. Yeah, let's do that. Tomorrow."

"You mean today. Ugh, I have to work late. So yes, tomorrow."

"My place then? Ross said he wanted to go apartment hunting."

"Really? Dare we hope that he finds something?"

"Mmmh – I don't think so. But at least he'll be out. That's something."

"Yeah." She squirmed and stretched under his hand and when he started to flag after a while – much too soon for her, she would have to find a way to make sure they both got the same amount of massage time on Sunday – she turned on her side and they spooned, settling against each other and entwining their legs before they both went to sleep again.

.

.

After Chandler had finally left she tried to go back to sleep although she knew she wouldn't be able to. Still, those few minutes, or sometimes even half hours before she had to get up were never really wasted. Actually it was the time where she got her best thinking done.

She started off with their latest plan to spend whatever alone time they could get on Sunday massaging each other. Properly massaging that was, giving those muscles are real good work-over from head to toe, not those soft cuddly varieties they treated each other to in-between and that were more like caresses or actually a foreplay variant. No, she wanted to do the real thing, and really do it in style, vigorous, powerful and sooo wholesome and good for both of them. She really couldn't wait. If only they could do it today, but Saturdays almost never worked for them – there was always too much to do, and any effort on their part to steal some alone time was at least twice as risky as on the other days of the week. She had long since resigned to the fact that Saturdays were unlucky for them, so trying to schedule anything on that day, especially when she was on her period, simply wasn't worth the risk.

Yes, the risk, that ever looming danger of their getting found out. Try as she might, nearly all her early morning ponderings would eventually return and circle around the same question. Three questions really (or a question that was threefold – she actually heard that remark in Phoebe's voice in her head): When? How? And will it be too soon?

As to when, she couldn't say, except she had an idea that time was running out for them. Joey AND Rachel knew now, and even if Rachel didn't seem to be inclined to let on, in fact seemed almost determined now to turn a blind eye to the whole thing, it was only a matter of time until Phoebe caught on. Maybe months, but more likely weeks. And the longer they kept it from her, the more upset she would be. And mad of course.

And how would she find out? Or Ross? Though he probably wouldn't find out on his own, it was more likely they would have to break it to him as gently as possible somehow, once Phoebe knew. And had gotten over it.

And would it be too soon when it happened or would it be alright? She liked to think it would be alright, in fact she was almost sure of it. Chandler had even suggested coming out on New Years' Eve to her, and while he seemed to enjoy the sneaking and their hot intense get-togethers in the dark, surely the prospect of being able to spend as much time – especially nights - together as they wanted, being a couple in front of all and everyone, in a loving relationship would outweigh all that? No more getting up in the small hours, sneaking past Ross and through the cold dark apartment. Instead whole nights of uninterrupted sleep together and – best of all – waking up together. That would be so worth it. Just imagining it gave her goosebumps, while she screwed her eyes together and clenched her fists.

Soon, she promised herself silently. It can't – won't - be much longer. It's been four months already. Five months should be enough. Ample even. So, in one month – that would be around the middle of February? Suddenly her breath hitched and her eyes flew open as she stared unseeing at the ceiling of her bedroom.

Valentine's Day. The perfect day. Lover's Day, what could be better than that?

.

.

At long last, finally Sunday afternoon rolled around, and the time came when they managed to extract themselves from the others, with the help of a little luck and a lot of practice four months of sneaking had given them. They made it to #19 without attracting undue notice and headed for Chandler's bedroom, giggling and excited. As they arrived at the door however, Chandler stopped her.

"Wait … let me go in first. It won't take long."

"Why, did you make a mess? I can help you with that!"

"Just wait, okay? It's just a minute!"

So she waited, fidgeting and trying to listen to him rummaging around inside. After what felt like an eternity and just as she was getting impatient, he called out to her.

"You can come in now!"

She opened the door and came to a halt on the doorstep, staring, taking it all in while she couldn't help grinning blissfully.

There were candles, lots and lots of candles, on the night stand, on his dresser and on the window sill, already lit and filling the room with their warm glow. The blinds were drawn and towels and blankets lay on the bed ready for use. Chandler himself had exchanged his jeans for pajama pants and socks and now lay on his side on the bed, grinning while he motioned to the pillow and blanket next to him invitingly.

"What do you think? Massages by candlelight?"

"Wow! Just … wow. This looks so …"

"Romantic?"

"Well, yeah." She got on the bed to kiss him. "I love it!"

"Oh yeah? Then get ready for your first candlelight massage!"

"Me? I thought I would do you first."

"Nonono. Ladies first. It was your idea after all."

"But not the candles … oh all right. Ooh, I almost forgot!"

"What's that? A timer? For what?"

"I don't want either of us to get less than they're due, so …"

He shrugged. "Alright. So, how long? Half an hour?"

"Okay!" She had taken off her shoes and pants and started to tug her sweater over her head. Chandler hurriedly sat up to help her and slid his hands up her back and sides over her bustier, gently rubbing his palms over her breasts under the formfitting fabric.

"Watch it, mister, just a massage today." But her breath had caught nonetheless and she felt her body reacting to the feel of his hands, his closeness. Chandler smiled and shrugged good-naturedly, and she let him steal another kiss before lying down on her stomach with her face resting on the pillow. While Chandler straddled her, lightly sitting on her buttocks, she set the timer to half an hour and then stretched out luxuriously, breathing deeply. Predictably enough he started on her shoulders and upper arms, gently kneading her muscles and joints with the tips of his fingers and thumbs, finding and softening the sore spots between her shoulder blades and the base of her neck. Every now and then his thumbs would stray a little towards the fastenings of the bustier and tease them open one by one until she relented and let him take it away from her back, but remained lying on it. Chandler proceeded massaging her back down to her hips and then back up again, a little too gently for her taste, obviously holding back. Especially her shoulders could well do with a little more pressure – but no matter, when it was her turn she would show him what a proper massage should be like ...

"I can't **believe** we've never done this before!" That got an amused grunt from him and the pressure of his fingertips even intensified a little.

"It's sooo good! So good for Monica!"

And then, just like that it was over, just when she had gotten into the mood. She felt him shift and then the timer chimed.

"Oh! Look at that, time's up! My turn!"

"That was a half an hour?!"

"It's your timer ..." Chandler got off her and stretched out on his stomach while she fastened the bustier and set the timer again, then got on his back. Suddenly she was glad that it was her turn. It was so good to feel him under her, his warm soft breathing body between her thighs. She had never done it like this before – a real pity, this had to be the absolute best position for it. This way she could really lay into him, give him all she had got.

"You know, I don't like to brag about it, but I give the **best** massages!"

"All right, then massage me up right nice!" And he sounded quite enthusiastic about it, so she started without any more delay, digging her fingers into his shoulders and back and putting her whole weight into it.

"Ah! Ahh! Ahh!" This was even better than she'd hoped. He was groaning out loud and squirming under her in his pleasure. Nobody had ever enjoyed it so much, and so soon even.

"It's so good, isn't it?" Oh my god, he was even clenching his hands into the pillow now and shuddering. And it had been so long, how had she kept so good at this? It must be true talent.

"It's so good I don't know what I've done to deserve it!" Gasping now, and what was that? He was actually fumbling for the timer!

"Oh hey, now stop trying to add more time to your massage!" Although she was tempted to allow him some more time, since he had been so good to her before, with the candles and all. She would give him an extra ten minutes as a special treat as soon as the 30 minutes were up – provided of course he didn't try to steal more time until then. As a further precaution she put the timer behind her out of reach, before laying into him once more.

"Say good-bye to sore muscles!" she sang out.

"Good-bye muscles!" he groaned. She wasn't quite sure what he meant with that, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more except the massage, the way her fingers pressed into his muscles, softening and stretching them, working out all the soreness and stiffness, pummeling into him until he went all limp and soft beneath her, hardly moving at all anymore …

Until suddenly he twisted around under her, like a corkscrew almost, swiftly catching her hands and pulling her hard against him until she was pinned against his chest. When she tried to wiggle her legs, he wrapped his around them until she went still and then kissed her almost desperately.

"Mmmh …. aw, um … mmmh … hey, I wasn't – I wasn't finished!"

"I know. I know … I just – it's too good! I can't stand it, it's too much!"

"Aw. Come on, I wasn't even warmed up yet ..."

"Oh god. Oh god. But really, it was a bit much … Please, I really need a minute. You know, to get used to it."

He was actually panting, she felt his chest press against hers with each breath. And now his hands slid under her bustier again, teasing it open and pushing it away. Then his fingers were probing for her breasts, finding and rubbing her nipples almost desperately. She wanted to stop him, but instead found herself squirming and arching her back to give him better access. Suddenly she felt his mouth on one of her nipples and his teeth closing on it and gently, oh so gently biting it, almost making her swoon and pant, and she closed her eyes.

"OOOH … oh god, yes, aw – don't stop …"

He switched nipples without losing a beat, and when he sucked on it hard it made her shudder and clench her thighs on his ribs, her last resistance vanishing. As one of his hands strayed to the small of her back and under her panties, stroking and kneading her buttocks and the sensitive place on the inside of her thigh while his other arm held her down securely, she decided that his massage would have to wait.

After all he could very well be right – there really was something like too much of a good thing.


	31. Massages for the Soul, part 2

Chandler firmly told himself not to be a baby. There was no way Monica's massages could really hurt that much. He was a grown man, of course he should be able to take it and bear it, even enjoy it like he was meant to. If it made Monica happy – and there was no doubt that she positively revelled in it – the least he could do was to indulge her, even if it meant he had to take his medicine like a man and endure it. Endure this exquisite and intense pain that her strong thin hard fingers relentlessly digging and stabbing into his back and shoulders caused him and try not to give in to the impulse to cry or pass out. Even if it meant that all his previous experiences of painful incidents – Monica cutting his toe off, Joey's sister giving him a black eye, Nina stapling his hand to his desk - now somehow paled before these new sensations. If he couldn't be strong enough for her massages, if he broke down and admitted the truth, he could very well jeopardize everything he had achieved in the past 18, soon to be 19 weeks. Monica would lose her hard won respect for him, and, even worse, she would be crushed and depressed. At least as bad and probably much worse than at that memorable time three years ago when she had elected herself his personal trainer and driven him to the point of near total exhaustion. It had taken her nearly a week to get over the low he had tricked her into when he simply couldn't take it anymore. And they hadn't been together then, so how bad would it make her feel now if he told her the truth? The risk was simply too high.

But … ow. OW. OW. OW! Even the memory of that massage made him wince and clench his teeth. He was quite sure that he wouldn't be able to take another half hour of it. Even one minute was barely endurable. Five minutes were pure torture and ten minutes already let him lose all his will to live – or even the belief that living on after this was even possible. Let alone get used to it.

That first time on Sunday afternoon he had managed to bring the massage to an untimely end by distracting Monica with some rather hot foreplay, which had mostly been inspired by his determination to stop the pain. Afterwards, when she wanted to start over he had convinced her by his arguing that such exquisite pleasures should be spread and meted out to future sessions and sparingly enjoyed instead of used up in merely one sitting. Then in the following night, he had gotten out of it by pointing out that it would make too much noise and wake Rachel, and in the morning after waking up that there wasn't enough time and a massage in the morning when his muscles were rested wouldn't make much sense anyway. But now it was Monday noon, he was on his lunchbreak in Central Perk, and for the first time in three months actually glad that he had an important meeting in the afternoon and couldn't take the rest of the day off like he did almost every other Monday now to be with Monica. Be with her and get more massages from her while she was still be fresh and energetic after her free day and probably already looking forward to lay into him again as soon as they were alone. And for the life of him he couldn't think of any more excuses, especially since she was still on her period which meant that his chances of getting out of the massages by simply seducing her were almost nil. This had to be the first time actually that he welcomed a delay of their being alone together.

Since only Joey had been there already when he arrived at the coffeehouse, he was able to immediately voice all his troubles to him and felt a little better with it even though his roommate seemed a little preoccupied with his upcoming audition and had nothing really helpful to offer. But least he didn't make fun of him for being in pain from a woman's massage.

"I'm telling you, she gives the worst massages ever! Okay, it was like she was torturing me for information. And I wanted to give it up I just—I didn't know what it was!"

"Chandler, if it really hurts that bad you should just tell her."

If only it was that easy. Of course he could have told her right away, after her very first touch already – if she hadn't been so much into it. 'The BEST massages' indeed. She had been so exalted, so thrilled, and had looked forward to it so much to it that he just couldn't bring himself to destroy her happiness. Even at the risk of ending up as a flabby, helplessly twitching jellyfish. A groaning, whimpering, desperately hurting jellyfish.

"Look, for the first time in my life I'm in a real relationship. Okay, I'm not gonna screw that up by you know, telling the truth!"

It was probably just as well that they were interrupted by Ross and Rachel's arrival. Which immediately prompted Joey to show off his newest asset, a black stovepipe hat that looked as if he had gotten it from some sideshow magician. Chandler made a great show of examining the hat.

"And the bunny got away!"

It turned out that Joey was up for the part of "- this real cool like suave international guy. A real clothes horse. So I figure that everyone at the audition is gonna be wearing this kinda you know, ultra-hip, high fashion stuff."

Leave it to Joey to believe that a stovepipe hat would make him appear the height of fashion.

"And you're gonna make them all disappear."

"Yeah, like you could find something as sophisticated as this."

Always up to a challenge, he put the bread basket from the table on his head. "Done!" This made Rachel laugh and shudder at the same time.

"Joey, if you wanna look good, why don't you just come down to the store? I'll help you out."

"Great! Thanks, Rach!"

"Sure!" And she screwed up her face in distaste. "God, please take those off!"

Pity really, he would have liked to see Monica's reaction to the bread basket. Maybe it would have made her forget the massage?

And then Phoebe came in, seemingly even more distracted and out of it than usual, barely returning their 'heys' and 'how's it going?' as she plopped into the easy chair.

"Umm, well, only okay because I just got back from, from the hospital."

Ouch. Phoebe in the hospital? That had to be serious, since she was hardly ever sick.

"What?"

"Is everything okay?

"Are you all right?

"Oh yeah, no-no-no. I'm fine. I'm okay, but umm, my Grandma sorta died."

Oh god. That was – sudden. Talk about a real bummer.

"Pheebs! Sorry!"

Still, she seemed quite composed, even matter-of-factly about it now.

"It's okay, I mean she had a really incredible life. And it's not like I'm never gonna see her again, you know she's gonna visit."

Of course, if her grandmother was anything like Phoebe – and from what he knew about her that described her quite well – that much was pretty certain.

"Well maybe, maybe she's with us right now?" It was as if Rachel had picked up his thought, but Phoebe just scoffed.

"Yeah, her first day on a new spiritual plane and she's gonna come to the coffeehouse!"

It was then that Chandler remembered Mrs. Adelman, Phoebe's client who had died on her table and then taken possession of her, because she hadn't seen "everything" yet. For Phoebe's sake he hoped that her grandmother had managed to depart without leaving anything important unfinished ... And then his musings were cut short by Monica rushing in all excited.

"Guys! Guys! I just saw two people having sex in a car right outside."

Chandler winced. Fortunately it was Ross who took it on himself to bring Monica up to date.

"Uhh, Pheebs' grandmother just died."

Monica's face fell. "Ohh my God, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay. Actually you know what, it's kinda cool. 'Cause it's like you know, one life ends and another begins ...!"

"Not the way they're doing it ..." Monica said dryly and Chandler nodded sagely, reminding himself to ask her for particulars later. "What, what happened? How did she die?"

"Well umm, okay we were in the market and she bent down to get some yogurt and she just never came back up again."

"Pheebs, I'm so sorry." Monica patted her hand almost helplessly, and Chandler remembered that she had lost her grandmother herself some years ago. Not her favorite grandmother, that one still lived in Florida, but all the same it had hit her hard. He was suddenly glad that he had never met either of his grandmothers and that both of Joey's seemed to be pretty much immortal. Phoebe however seemed to take it quite philosophically.

"It was really sweet. The last thing she said to me was; "Okay dear, you go get the eggs and I'm gonna get the yogurt and we'll meet at the checkout counter." And you know what? We **will** meet at the checkout counter!"

That was actually a sobering thought and they all fell quiet for a moment, pondering it. Then Monica took Phoebe's hands in hers.

"So what happens now – I mean, have you already made, well, arrangements?"

"Oh sure. I've talked to Reverend Pong, and he will hold the memorial service tomorrow. Oh, are you all free tomorrow?"

As they all shrugged and nodded, murmuring their assents, Monica frowned.

"Tomorrow? So soon? Phoebe, are you sure you've enough time to prepare?"

"Why? … time for what?"

Monica stared at her. "Well … unless you only want us to be there, you'll have to call the people you want to be there. Get the obituary in the paper. Arrange for the catering … well, you know, all those things you have to do when you have to organize a funeral, you know?"

Phoebe suddenly looked rather dejected. "Actually I don't know. The last time I had to deal with something like this was when my mother died." They all winced almost automatically. "And that's so long ago now. So yeah, you're right. You're totally right. I don't know if I can do this."

Monica patted her arm and gave her one of her tender maternal smiles. "So you need me to help you?"

"Oh, would you? Really? Oh yay! Monica, that is so great!" As Phoebe nearly fell over herself in gratitude Chandler secretly admired her for playing her cards so well. And then he suddenly realized that fate had once more smiled upon him. Since Monica would throw herself wholeheartedly into the task of organizing the funeral, there was no chance in hell she would find the energy for another massage anytime soon. He could almost hear his muscles cheering in heartfelt joy.

.

.

When Joey had turned in rather early that night, after having to take a lot more teasing and ribbing for his new bag (which he did take into bed with him) and Ross too was finally curled up and snoring on his couch after he had repeatedly nodded off over his laptop, Chandler decided to try his luck and sneak over to Monica a little earlier than usual. Everything went smoothly too until he silently opened the door to Monica's bedroom and found it empty. She had to be at Phoebe's still even though it was past midnight by now. Just as he was debating with himself whether he should leave or wait a bit, he heard Rachel get up from her bed to leave the room, and hurriedly shut the door, his heart beating in his throat. Was it just a bathroom trip? No, it sounded like she was doing something in the kitchen, and now the TV was switched on. Great, of all the times for an attack of sleeplessness, she had to pick this one. Now he was trapped. It could have been worse though, if he had come just two minutes later, Rachel would have caught him. Of course he would have pretended to be on a fridge raid, but it would have been very awkward all the same. Especially since she was suspicious already. He was still wondering about that weird exchange between her and Monica in his apartment after they had returned from the dinner at Doug's and Kara's. It had seemed just a little too – staged somehow. Too pat, especially for someone as alert and gossipy as Rachel.

He took off his bathrobe and socks and put them carefully on the hamper, then tugged the bedspread off the bed and neatly folded it before he got under the covers. And nearly sighed aloud with pleasure. Even with the new mattress Monica's bed was still so much more comfortable than his. It could be that the sheets seemed so much smoother and softer than his, or the way they smelled, or how the pillows seemed just right for his head. Or simply because it was Monica's bed.

He valiantly tried to stay awake, but the comfort of the bed and the muted sounds of the TV from the living room soon lulled him to sleep, from which he only came to again when Monica prodded his ribs after gently kissing him on the corner of his mouth had failed to wake him.

"Ummmh … huh?"

"Shshshsh! It's okay. Hi ..."

"Ah. Umm. Alright …. Um." Sighing he let his head drop back on the pillow again and Monica chuckled softly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Um. Warming your bed for you?"

"Well, move over, sleepyhead … oooh, you're right. It's so warm. Mmmh. And I'm sooo tired …"

They settled against each other, cuddling and nestling, and he put his arm around her to hold her close. And then almost yelped.

"Huh – are those your feet?!"

"Well sorry … mmmh, um, this feels sooo good … Oh please, just a little bit more – I'll make it up to you, I swear! Just … oooh … um … oh yeah, like that … I'll throw in another massage too!"

"Oh my god. I don't think I'm up for that right now … no, really, I'm fine. I'm good. Just really, really sleepy."

"Yeah. Me too. Just have to get warm again … I can't believe it got so late. But there was so much to do!"

"Is everything arranged now?"

"Pretty much. Oh, it's going to be amazing. We've got so many great ideas. I just hope that enough people will come. I can't wait!"

"Mmmh." He searched for her mouth and they kissed lingeringly, until he felt her relaxing and breathing more evenly. When she slowly turned on her back, he started to stroke her belly and hips until he was sure she had fallen asleep.

.

.

'Amazing' really didn't even begin to describe it. Chandler was quite sure he would never get to attend a memorial service that was more exotic and weirder than this one. Unless Phoebe died before him, but then there probably would be no one to arrange everything like she had – the candles, the incense, the soft exotic music wafting from hidden speakers, all those weird people swaying to the music and talking with themselves, and above all the ancient 3D movies. Apparently Phoebe's grandmother had loved those and Monica and Phoebe had spent most of last night sorting through them and getting everything set up in such a way that the whole service was accompanied by the 3D effects from various old movies. Weird didn't even start to describe it when they started playing in that perfectly ordinary meeting hall in the church and the nice little Reverend had to give his speech seemingly from inside the Empire State Building where King Kong was hanging on trying to fight the helicopters. But still, nothing could really be as weird as Phoebe suddenly meeting her real dad one moment and almost losing him again the next.

After the funeral they all met up again in Monica's kitchen for coffee, except Joey who had to change into his new outfit sponsored by Rachel, but presented himself to them in it, complete with his new bag. Which he still couldn't bear to part with.

"Ahhh, I think you look **great**! That bag is gonna get you that part!" Rachel cooed.

"And a date with a man!" Chandler just couldn't resist. It all bounced off Joey anyway. Apparently they all had to get used to the fact that from now on Joey now _**came with a bag. **_Chandler idly wondered what else he would keep in it in the days to come. Besides the flowers and the sandwiches.

Now Phoebe got ready to leave too, looking rather unaccustomedly sad.

"All right, I'd better go too. I have to go talk to my dad."

"Ooh, Pheebs, what are you gonna say? Are you gonna tell him who you are?

"Umm, no, not at first, because I - I don't want to freak him out …"

Ross saw his chance to vent off his latest frustration and forged ahead. "Well, but aren't you pissed at him?! I mean this guy **abandoned** you! I gotta tell you if this were me, this guy would be in some serious physical danger!" It made Chandler wonder if this 'getting angry on behalf of someone else' was also approved by the anger management class Ross still attended. "I mean I - I'd walk in there and I'd be like, "Yo, dad! You and me outside right now!" When he found that he had gotten short of breath, he abruptly calmed down again. "Wow, I kinda scared myself!"

"Well, at least you scared someone." Monica remarked dryly and Ross went into his silent sulk again. Phoebe just sighed.

"You know it's funny, you'd **think** I'd be angry. I mean, you'd **think** I'd wanna rip his tiny little head off. Fortunately, I'm past it."

"Phoebe, you do seem a little tense. Here, let me help you." Oh god no, she wanted to give Phoebe a massage. Phoebe of all people. Just because she had enjoyed torturing – erm, massaging him and had now licked blood, become unable to pass up the chance to do it again … Oh no, now Phoebe had agreed and Monica gleefully put her hands on her shoulders and dug in - -

Or at least tried. She had hardly started when Phoebe tore loose, yelping and shuddering. Chandler couldn't help smirking a little, at least he had endured it for almost ten minutes …

"Oh! Get off! Ow! Oh, stop it! Why?! Why are you doing that to me?!"

Monica stared at her open-mouthed. "What are you talking about?"

"As a masseuse and a human, I'm begging you, never do that to anyone!"

Monica stared at her blankly and now Chandler started to feel bad for her.

"I give good massages!" That actually made Ross laugh. "I used to give them to Rachel all the time before she got allergic!" Rachel winced, avoiding her eyes, and now Chandler started to feel hot under his collar. Oh god, if only he could turn himself invisible, become a little mouse and scurry away …

"And – and Chandler loves them! Watch!"

He tried, honestly and determinedly tried. For about five seconds anyway. Then it simply got too much.

"He-he does not like it! He hates it! He's in pain!" Phoebe cried out as she saw him grimacing and clenching his teeth desperately.

"No he's not!" As Monica dug even deeper Chandler's last resistance crumbled.

"Yes, he is!" Ah god, the relief when she let go of him … and the sudden sinking feeling when she looked at him uncomprehending and hurt. So so hurt.

"What?!"

Chandler groaned. "I'm sorry but, ow-owww-owww!" And oh god, it was all going to come out now. There was no way they could keep up appearances after that, not with everyone staring at them …

"You've been lying to me? I can't believe you'd do that."

"Well, maybe he just didn't want to hurt your feelings." Bless Ross for those rare moments when he actually understood. But Monica ignored him.

"But the minute we start to lie to each other…" Yikes, now they were getting on thin ice indeed. Was this it? Just like that? But no, she did manage to catch herself after all at the last moment. "And by 'we' I mean society ...!"

Of course she did. Totally. Society in general, everybody knew that lying was bad. Nothing good could come from it, even from white lies. It only led to pain and heartbreak. Chandler found that he was in total agreement with that now, especially since he was now safe from any more massages from Monica, and couldn't help smiling blissfully at that thought. It was almost too good to be true.

"Well, I can't believe he actually let you massage him the first place." Phoebe frowned at him. "How on earth did you do that? And not pass out?"

Chandler shrugged, suddenly very conscious suddenly of Monica's scrutiny. "Maybe my sweater vest is massage-proof?"

"He probably lost all feeling after the first minute. Like I did." Ross shot a baleful glance at Monica who suddenly looked rather stricken.

.

.

He'd managed to escape soon after Phoebe left, but as soon as the door of his apartment closed behind him, his conscience launched its attack on him, hurting far worse than Monica's massage had done. She was right. He had lied to her. Of course telling the truth would have hurt her, but he would have found a way to make it up again, and it would have been so much easier than it would be now. If it actually could be done now. Now she would feel betrayed and like he'd thought of her as a crazy fool who had to be indulged and tiptoed around of. Which admittedly he did sometimes. And always ended up hating himself for it. Because Monica was anything but crazy. Just passionate and zealous, always ready to lose herself in her enthusiasm, and yes, a little – unpredictable. But not only he'd come to love her exactly for that, he also took pride in the fact that he was fully capable of dealing with it, even enjoyed it. It felt so great to know that this was something he could do, and the rewards were so much worth it too. If he succeeded that was. He just had to hope that it was not too late this time.

"Hey, is Rachel here?" Actually he'd heard her leave together with Ross some minutes ago, but still needed to make sure before entering no. 20.

Monica was still in the kitchen, her face rather unreadable. "No."

Ohh-kay ... Chandler took a deep breath and cautiously advanced.

"Listen, I just wanted to apologize about this afternoon and the whole massage thing. You know? I - I really like them."

Oops, not quite the right approach. Monica sighed almost exasperatedly and threw up her hands. All at once she seemed perfectly sensible and even reasonable.

"Oh, please, stop! Look, we're supposed to be honest with each other! I - I just wish you could tell me! Just say, "I don't like your massages."

Easier said than done. Chandler opened his mouth, found that he somehow couldn't get it out and had to try again. Something in his mind kept screaming at him that it was wrong, it would hurt her too much. But she had wanted it. She didn't want any more lies, white or not. And if she wanted honesty, then he had to give it to her.

She had turned half away from him, so at least he didn't have to say it to her face when at last he managed to do it, though with great reluctance and as careful and considerate as he could.

"I don't like your massages."

For a split second he actually thought that it was alright, that it was going to be okay. But who was he fooling? Just before she turned her back he saw her face crumple.

"See? It's no big deal ..." Her voice wavered on the last words and Chandler dearly wanted to kick himself.

"Okay, but now see you're crying!"

"I'm not crying about that! I'm crying about something that happened at work."

"What?"

Now Monica clenched her fists and stamped her foot in frustration.

"My boyfriend said he didn't like my massages!"

This was getting worse and worse and in his need to comfort her he said the first thing that occurred to him.

"It's okay, you don't have to be the best at everything."

And as soon as he said he knew it was wrong and wanted to kick himself again. Hard. Had he really thought he could handle it when she was in one of those moods? Those moods where it seemed more like she was trapped in them, unable to get out of them by any rational arguing or worse, commiseration? The more fool he.

"Oh my God! You don't know me at all!"

Right. What had he been thinking? Time to stop all this fooling around and get down to brass tacks. Tear off the sticking plaster in one go.

"Okay, you give the worst massages in the world."

"I'm crying here!"

"Okay, hear me out. Okay? You give the **best** bad massages. If anybody was looking for the best bad massage and they were thinking to themselves, 'Who's the best of that?' They'd have to go to you."

For a long moment she remained still, chewing on it and he held his breath. And released it again in a big whoosh in his relief when her shoulders slumped and she drew up her nose.

"Huh. So you're saying like … if there was an award for the best bad massage, well who would get that?"

Yes! That was the way to go. What did it matter if it seemed childish and simplistic as long as it worked for her? This was about emotions after all, not rational thinking, and momentary, impulsive emotions at that. And Chandler was only too happy to have found the way to deal with them – again.

"Oh, it would be you! You! Monica!" Another happy thought. "And you would get **all** the votes!"

"So maybe they could umm, call the award the Monica?"

"Absolutely!" Chandler smiled widely at her, wanting nothing better than to dance in his relief. Monica too smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes and sticking up her chin.

"Okay. I suck!"

"Yeah!" he agreed and held out his arms to her, sweeping her into his embrace as she threw her arms around his neck. For a long moment she simply pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing deeply and he kept his arms around her, stroking and patting her back. At last she turned her face to his, searching for his mouth and they kissed deeply. She still felt tense under his hands and he could only begin to understand the emotional turmoil she had gone through, and what it had cost her. But when he slipped his hand under her sweater, gently rubbing the small of her back just over her pelvis she shuddered and slowly and gradually relaxed. Her arms slid down over his chest, her fingers clenching into his sweater vest. And then they found themselves at the kitchen counter as she came up backwards against it, trapping his hands between it and her back, and instead of backing off again he lifted her up until she came to sit on it and wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid one hand under her sweater to open her bra and tugged down the neckline at the same time, kissing her breasts while she moaned and wriggled and her heels thrummed against his buttocks. Only when one of her plastic bowls got pushed over the edge they stopped and held still for a moment, panting.

"It's okay … I got it …" he let go of her to retrieve the bowl, glad that it was not a glass. When he came up again, she held her arms out wordlessly and they pressed close again. For a wild moment he wanted nothing better than get her out of her pants and sweater and do it right there, with her on the counter and him with his pants around his ankles, for everyone to see who should happen to come in … Then he tightened his grip and stepped back from the counter, hefting her up and turning towards the bedroom. But just as they'd gotten past the fridge she suddenly stiffened and started to wiggle out of his arms.

"Sorry, but – um, have to - -"

"What?"

"… bathroom …"

"Ah, okay. Hold on. No problem. Should I -?!"

"No!" Now she was definitely blushing. When he put her down at the bathroom door however, she kissed him quickly, her eyes tender.

"Go on ahead, I'll make it quick!"

Sighing he trudged into her bedroom and took off his sweater vest and shoes, all the while wondering if she would change her mind. After all she was still on her period, and still acting funny about it most of the time. He had better check if she had a towel handy. And condoms. And what if Rachel would come back and catch him, or trap him in her bedroom again? Well, it was no use worrying about that now.

He had stripped to his boxers already and was waiting for her in the half-opened door when she was finished at last and came out of the bathroom. To his utter amazement she had already stripped to her underwear, darting across the apartment in her panties and chemise, carrying her clothes over her arm. When she saw him in his boxers her face lit up and she giggled excitedly. While she put her clothes away, he hurriedly shut the door and turned the key for good measure, then scooped her up and carried her to the bed, kissing her while she gasped and clung to him. At the bed he gently let her down right onto the towel he had spread across it earlier, and, kneeling over her, started to tug her chemise over her head, slapping her hands away when she wanted to open her bra herself. Hooking her fingers into her panties he slid them down her legs and flung them away. And then she was naked, lying beneath him as he knelt between her legs, propping himself up on his outstretched arms, panting while his heart thudded in his ears and his erect penis tented his boxers. For a long moment their eyes locked as they stared at each other silently and he saw her swallow and moisten her lips. Then she slowly lifted her arms, letting her hands slide down his chest to his stomach down to his groin before determinedly pushing down his boxers as he lowered himself on her and his lips met hers.


	32. The Big Fat Valentine's Day Reveal Plan

While she was lying in her bed and waiting for Chandler to sneak over to her bedroom, Monica tried to distract herself with thinking about other things, whatever there was, anything really – like plans for next week's specials, shopping lists, the upcoming lunch with her mother, things she could do for Phoebe to help her deal with both the loss of her grandmother and her biological dad only hours after they had been reunited – in short everything really except about what she would do with Chandler the moment he arrived. From long experience – 20 weeks now actually, 20 WEEKS! – she knew that thinking about it would only make her crazy with desire and turn her on so much that it would burn her up, render her unable to savor and enjoy every single moment of it and also be over too much too fast. While Chandler usually at least made an effort to go slow and draw out the foreplay as much as he could (or she let him), often teasing her with it too, she mostly found herself burning up in her searing desire to hurry through it in one mad seething hot rush that would leave her completely spent and numb afterwards, practically unconscious. It hadn't always been that way, indeed before Chandler she had always been able to suppress that over-greedy madness. How else could she have lived through that year-long dry spell? But now, after more than four months of nonstop sex she could feel her control slipping. It didn't help that Chandler was so good at satisfying that need in her, over and over and over, seemingly as tireless as she. But even though she knew only too well that it didn't work that way, couldn't work actually, and that Chandler's way always suited her so much better in the end, she still found it hard to reign herself in and resist that deep mad impulse. Just like she had never been able to fight her need to eat, to stuff herself with food to bursting point and beyond as a teenager, it was still a struggle for her to curb that drive and hold it in, even as an adult. What made it harder was that it didn't manifest itself as sexual desire or eating frenzy only, but in other things as well that were even harder to control. Like that blind furious powerful need to excel, to be the best at everything. She knew that it could never be satisfied, that if she gave in to it there would be never be an end to it, that every time she reached a goal the next would already beckon and so forth until she was caught in an endless spiral of ambition that she couldn't get out of by herself. Or that ever gnawing need to please people, to do anything to make everybody love and admire her. Or that constant nagging itch in the back of her mind that things needed straightening, put into shape, to be arranged just so, the way only she could do it, until they were perfect – not that they ever could really be perfect. And yet, even though at some rational level she was quite aware that all those urges were at best futile and wearying and at worst destructive, she also knew that they somehow defined her, were an indispensable part of her personality and had to be accepted as such. By other people as much as by herself.

So, something to distract herself. Thinking about her mother and her work colleagues was too frustrating, and she had gone over her shopping lists and specials already so often she could recite them backwards. That left Phoebe. Her poor sweet friend Phoebe. It was just over a week now that her grandmother had died and her biological father had turned up so unexpectedly at the memorial, but Monica was still worried about her friend. Even though – or maybe especially because – Phoebe didn't let on about how much it all must hurt her, pushing it aside or even joking about it when the subject came up, Monica knew her well enough not to be fooled by the façade. To anyone else it could very well appear that her grandmother's death was actually a relief for Phoebe and the confrontation with her dad only that she could finally close off that chapter of her life and move on, but Monica just knew that it was all just more losses that left holes in her life. She had coped with so many losses before – her mother's suicide, her sister's estrangement, David leaving for Minsk, the triplets - and Monica was sure she would cope with these new losses too in her own way, but she still couldn't help worrying about her.

If only her good-for-nothing deadbeat father on the run hadn't turned up. Or met with her and actually stayed long enough to bond with his estranged daughter a little before taking off again. It still made Monica wince when she remembered how euphoric Phoebe had been on her return from the coffeehouse, how happy to have finally found her dad that she had by then almost given up on. When Rachel asked her later if they would meet again sometime, she had smiled indulgently and shown them the note where he had scribbled down his telephone no. for her.

"I won't call him, not right away" she had explained. "But I know I can reach out for him now anytime I want to. And he can call me too! Just to think, until yesterday I didn't know who my dad was and now I have his telephone no.!"

That had made Monica feel so happy for her too – if anyone deserved a break like that it was Phoebe. And if she hadn't looked at the scribbled telephone no. and suddenly noticed that it was somehow familiar, Phoebe could have enjoyed her happiness for some time longer, at least until she eventually would have tried to call her dad and found herself talking to whoever happened to be manning the counseling hotline Reverend Pong maintained at the church where they had held the memorial. Monica had tried to hide her dismay, but of course Phoebe had caught her expression and the bubble had burst. When she had seen Phoebe's face cloud over and her resigned "Oh no …" she had wanted nothing better than to grab that little weasel and kick the living shit out of him.

And yet she knew that Phoebe would get through this too. She was tough and didn't take things to heart like other people. And she had her friends, her and Chandler and the others. They would never leave her. Or let her down, or betray her ... unless you counted her and Chandler's secret relationship a betrayal.

Would she actually see it that way? Monica wasn't sure, but thought it was quite possible. Phoebe had few principles, but one of them was honesty. What if she would be really hurt when they revealed themselves on Valentine's Day? Angry even and disappointed? After all that had happened, with the fight with her sister on top of it all, and so short before her birthday too? Would it not be better to postpone the big reveal for some more weeks, until Phoebe had recovered a little? If she recovered anytime soon. Knowing Phoebe it was entirely possible that she wouldn't get over the loss of her grandmother and her father anytime soon, but continue to beat herself up over it over and over, like she still did with her mother's suicide. Probably write songs about it endlessly too.

But she really didn't want to postpone the reveal and give up on her cherished Big Valentine's Day Reveal Plan. The date was perfect and it was high time, they were so ready for it. If anything, her latest stupid obsession about massages and the amazing way Chandler had handled it – had handled her actually – had clearly shown that. After it had turned out that he couldn't stand her massages and had only pretended to like them in order not to hurt her feelings, she had almost expected him to avoid her or at least pretend that nothing had happened. Instead he had apologized and then even found a way for her to get over her emotional turmoil. That was proof enough for her. They had gone through so much together, had survived so many crises in those 20 weeks that she was confident they could stand anything now. And as nice and exciting the secrecy still was to them, she felt that it was getting to be too much of a good thing. It was time to end it and take their relationship to the next level.

But she still wished that Phoebe and Ross too for that matter were in a more balanced and peaceful state of mind …

Her train of thought abruptly broke off when she heard her bedroom door being carefully opened and shut again hurriedly after Chandler had darted in. She had just time enough to hold up the covers for him before he sank onto her bed and into her waiting arms, his t-shirt and boxers already stripped off and discarded on the way, but still in his socks, and making her shudder excitedly from the feel of him, his cool hands warming against her back as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed close, his already hardening penis urgently pressing against her vulva and his cold lips descending on her mouth. For a little while they remained like that, quietly cuddling and increasingly breathless as their kiss deepened and their bodies strained against each other. The feel of his penis twitching and pushing between her labia almost roughly, rubbing against her clit, and his thigh and butt cheeks under her calf made her ache with desire for him. At first she thought he wanted to go on top this time, but he remained on his side and only turned for a moment to grab the condom she had already unpacked and put on the nightstand ready for him. After putting it on he scooted downwards a little to kiss her breasts, gently sucking on her nipples and hooking her outer leg over his waist at the same time, with two of his fingertips already slipping inside her. Sideways then, which suited her just fine, was in fact just what she had wanted without really realizing it. It took a bit of wiggling and adjusting before he slowly pushed into her, taking care not to dislodge the condom and kissing her at the same time. Then they were joined, their tongues caressing each other, their chests pressing so close she could feel his heartbeat against her breasts and their legs entwined as they languidly rocked to and fro with each of his thrusts, slow at first and then picking up more speed as they found their rhythm. She dug her nails into his back in her efforts not to scream as her arousal reached its peak and started panting instead, almost whining with the strain, just as he did, his breath hitting her neck and shoulders each time he exhaled. They had started out still under the covers, but of course now ended up with them all bunched up around their feet as they reached their climax almost at the same time and then slowly relaxed their hold as their bodies cooled and their breaths stilled again. She tried to get him to stay inside her a bit longer and he complied so that for some minutes they just remained wrapped around each other loosely, exchanging lazy kisses. At last he sighed and moved away from her to dispose of the condom and she tried to retrieve the covers without having to sit up.

"You know, it's funny – I think there was something I wanted to tell you, but I just can't seem to remember what."

She giggled. "Can't have been that important then."

"Mmmh. Guess I'll have to write it down next time. Mmmmh … are you cold?"

"What? No, roasting in fact … um, are you still wearing your socks?"

"Oops … sorry. But they're really clean, I only put them on just now, and I tiptoed all the way … There. Better now?"

"Yes. Oooh, yes, like that …"

"Argh! How can you still have cold feet after that?!"

"I don't know. Guess it's a girl thing."

"Do you want my socks? They're still warm …"

"Ugh, no. Your shins'll do just fine."

Sometime later, when they were spooning and she was already dozing, she felt him start up a little.

"Oh, that was it, I remember now. It's Phoebe. She came in yesterday to ask us where she should put her grandmother's ashes –"

"Oh god, does she still have them?"

"Yes, and she said she just couldn't decide where to put them. But she said she wanted to tell us something tomorrow – well today."

"Oh? About what?"

"She didn't say. Could be anything – her grandmother, her father, her flat …"

"Her flat? Does she have to move now too?"

"Oh god, not her too. I was actually hoping Ross could move in with her."

"Ross and Phoebe? No, that would never work. The flat's too small. They'd be at each other's throats within a week."

"You're probably right. Then I hope it's something else. Oh, maybe Valentine's Day. By the way, do you still think we should go through with it?"

Monica sighed. "I truly don't know. We should do it, it's really high time. I still want to do it then. But with Phoebe and Ross both so – you know …"

"Unstable. Yeah, I know. And I don't know either."

"It's still a week and a half until then. We can still call it off and wait some more if it's too – awkward."

"Or maybe we shouldn't tell them. Just write them a note instead … or send them a video message."

She giggled and then laughed outright. "What a great idea! Yeah, they could watch that while we're away somewhere, and only come back when everyone's calmed down. Maybe Joey could phone us when it's okay to come back."

"And where should we go? Don't you have to work on Valentine's Day? It's a Sunday, isn't it?"

"Yes, and no, I don't have to work that day. The whole weekend actually."

"That's great! So if things are still too tight then, we'll just leave them a video and spend the weekend somewhere. Where would you like to go?"

"I have to think about it. Well, not Atlantic City, that's for sure."

He chuckled at that. "Duly noted. Anywhere but there."

"And maybe we won't have to do it. I mean, Ross could still find an apartment until then, maybe even one big enough for him and Phoebe …"

"Yeah. That would be the best."

.

.

When Phoebe finally came in next morning (minus her grandmother's ashes, to Monica's intense relief), Rachel and Chandler were on the point of leaving for work, while Ross was already studying the apartment ads and Joey was finishing his third bowl of cereal. One look at Phoebe's face was enough to tell her that it was good news after all and inwardly she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Hey! Guess what! You know, when I got the letter that the landlords wanted to meet with me? Yeah, I thought they wanted me to vacate the flat, but it turns out they just needed to change the lease to my name."

"What? You mean, you can keep living there? That's awesome!"

"But how can that be? I thought it was rent controlled. Didn't that stop when your grandmother died?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. But they said I sort of inherited the lease, because I'm my grandmother's successor. Yay, I don't have to move!"

"Oh my god, Phoebe, that's such great news! I'm so happy for you!"

"And I'm so jealous …! I wish I could inherit an apartment." Ross scowled at the paper on the living room table.

"But Monica, this apartment is rent-controlled too. What if your grandmother died, would you inherit the apartment too?"

"Didn't she die already like four years ago?"

"No, Joey, that was my other grandmother. The grandmother who used to live here moved to Florida – and no, it doesn't work that way, Rachel."

"Why not? She's your grandmother!"

"But she moved out when I had only lived here for half a year. You have to live in a rent controlled apartment for more than five years to be able to take over the lease. That's why I couldn't change the lease to my name."

"Yeah, that's what the landlords said to me too. Because I've been living there since 1993 I can stay now."

"Couldn't you tell them that your grandmother has moved just now?"

"Maybe. But I'd rather not risk them finding out the truth. I really don't want to lose this apartment."

"So, Pheebs, now that your grandmother is gone, do you need a roommate?"

"Ross! Really!"

"A roommate? Maybe, but I'm not sure. Why, do you know someone?"

"Um, yes? Hello?!"

"Oh Ross! Oh, now I see what you mean. Right, yes, well, I don't know. It's too early, you know? I'm not sure my grandmother has really left. I – we need a bit more time."

"Are you sure? Maybe your grandmother would like me to live there. And I would be really careful not to disturb her. We would share the rent too!"

Phoebe stared at Ross and slowly shook her head. "Yeah … I don't think so. I mean, I would love to help you out, but … it would be wrong. It's too soon. Maybe later."

"How much later?"

"I don't know! A year?"

"What? A year?!"

"Ross, calm down." Monica put her hands on his shoulder to push him back on his seat. "Don't pressure her. The apartment is too small for you two anyway. It wouldn't work."

Ross sighed and slumped back in his seat. "You're right. Sorry, Pheebs."

"That's okay. I mean, if you still haven't found anything in a year – okay, in half a year. Then you can move in with me. If my grandmother's okay with it."

"But –" Ross caught Monica's warning gaze and broke off. "Well – okay. If I don't find something else until then. Thanks Pheebs, you're a real friend."

"Oh you're welcome!"

Monica exchanged a quick glance and a smile with Chandler. One down, one still to go, and she couldn't help feeling optimistic about Ross. Ten days still to go, ten days in which anything could happen.

And if all else failed they could still go on a lam on Valentine's Day.

.

.

A/N I'm really sorry about the longer wait this time - I was away on vacation for two weeks with just my phone (as usual) and the first week after that was just too busy for writing. But here it is now, guys, finally, at last - the very last chapter before the final ones with the big reveal, and I hope you enjoy it. Also I can't promise anything, but I'll try to get that written in a more decent time, and also in three chapters at most - maybe only two even. We'll see.


	33. The Messing Game, part 1

Chandler felt great.

It wasn't just that the weekend had arrived, the one that concluded their 21st. week together (TWENTY-ONE WEEKS! He was getting as bad as Monica about this). Or that they were all gathered together in # 20's living-room doing justice to a huge pile of Chinese food that everybody except Joey had been in favor of ordering. And though Joey was missing his Friday night special, it didn't stop him from digging into the sweet and sour pork chops, so that was alright too. His own chicken fried rice was delicious and he loved that everybody was relaxed and in a good mood, looking forward to what the weekend would bring.

He loved even more that he knew exactly what it would bring them. The big surprise. The big fat Valentine reveal of Monica's and his secret relationship that they would spring on their (mostly) unsuspecting friends. Oh, he couldn't wait for their faces. Only one more day to go.

One day and two nights that was. Only two more nights where he and Monica would go for it in secret for the last time in the dead of night when everyone was asleep, trying to keep silent while their passion claimed them in Monica's bed under the covers. Only two more nights of sneaking through ice-cold hallways and dark rooms, past snoring Ross on the couch and dodging Rachel's sudden bouts of insomnia. Two more nights and then nevermore. He had already vowed to himself to make those two nights count.

It helped that Ross would spend those nights at Carol's to babysit Ben while Carol and Susan went away to enjoy the Valentine weekend alone together, so he and Monica could spend one or even both of those final secret nights in his bedroom for a change. As a additional bonus, just to make it really perfect, they had finally gone off condoms again with Monica in the second half of her cycle where she deemed her diaphragm enough protection. He didn't mind using condoms in the least, they could even be sort of exciting if they made a game of it and Monica put them on him for instance, but going in bareback made it easier to be more – well, spontaneous. And added so much to the thrill.

Yes, life was really good right now. There had been no more close calls since the massage thing, and both Ross' and Phoebe's current emotional frame of mind seemed much improved too. Phoebe especially appeared to have regained her usual cheerful and quirky self as had been proven earlier when Monica had asked her how she wanted to celebrate her upcoming birthday.

"Yeah, about that. My birthday's not next week."

"What? Phoebe, that's crazy. Of course it is. It's next Tuesday!"

"Right! My old birthday. But I changed it."

"What? Why?"

"You can't just change your birthday!"

"Of course I can. I can have it whenever I want. And now that my grandmother died and I got so mad at my sister again – and my father – I decided to switch my birthday with my grandma's birthday. You know, to honor her memory."

"Wow, Phoebe, that's …"

"And this way I also don't have to share it with Ursula. Anymore."

"Actually that's … kinda cool. I like it!"

"So what you're saying is, you're changing the date when you celebrate your birthday, not your actual birthday."

Phoebe coyly fluttered her lashes at Ross. "Ach, potato-potuhtoe …"

"So when is your grandmother's birthday? I mean your birthday now."

"October 29th."

"But that's still so long to go! Are you sure about this?"

"Yes!" Phoebe said firmly, in that tone that bore no discussion. "I don't feel much like celebrating anything now. And my new birthday is close to Halloween, so we can celebrate that too, that's kinda cool."

"What about Valentine's Day?" Monica asked suddenly and Chandler felt a chill run down his back. Here it came … "Do any of you have plans? Because if nobody does we could have a no-dates-just-friends-Valentine party. You know, just the six of us."

"Oh Mon, you want that every year, and it never works."

"So? Maybe it would work this time. Or do you have a date?"

Rachel looked piqued. "Nn-ooo … not as such, but –"

"Joey? Do you have a date?" Joey shrugged dismissively.

"And I'm taking Ben to Mom and Dad's, so I'm free too."

"No need to ask Chandler, eh?" When Phoebe looked at him mischievously he smiled noncommittally, refusing to be baited. Fortunately just then their order of Chinese food had arrived and saved him from a long discussion of his love life for which he was profoundly grateful.

And now, while Rachel was looking up some music to put on, Phoebe went over to the big window for her daily check on Ugly Naked Guy.

"Oh hey, you guys, look! Ugly Naked Guy is putting stuff in boxes!"

She was right. When he joined the others at the window, the big guy in the flat immediately opposite was indeed busy filling various cartons and boxes. For the umpteenth time Chandler wondered if The Bulky One always kept his heating on high or if all that surplus fat kept him warm enough by itself.

"I'd say from the looks of it our naked buddy is moving."

"Ironically, most of the boxes seem to be labeled clothes." Ross remarked which made Chandler wonder immediately how he could have discovered that so quickly seeing as the first thing everybody looked at was that -

"Ohh, I'm gonna miss that big old squishy butt!"

Right. That. Which He of the Mighty Girth had at that moment chosen to stick right into their faces by bending over a carton. He noticed that he still had his box of rice in his hand and winced, his appetite suddenly gone.

"And we're done with the chicken fried rice!"

"Hey! Hey! If he's moving, maybe I should try to get his place!" Ross' eyes had positively lit up and everybody immediately agreed. It really seemed too good to be true.

"It would be so cool to live across from you guys!"

As opposed to continue living in Joey's and his flat, of course it was. Even if spying on Never Naked Ross wouldn't be even half as funny. Or as gross.

"Hey, yeah! Then we could do that telephone thing! Y'know, you have a can, we have a can and it's connected by a string!" Joey seemed suddenly transported back to his childhood which probably hadn't been a long way to go.

"Or we can do the **actual** telephone thing!" Still, it would save phone costs – maybe even as much as 2 cents.

"Uh-oh. He's got packing tape stuck to where you really don't want it!" Monica winced in sympathy.

"Get-it-off, fat man, get it off!" Chandler found himself yelling. Now they all watched again, holding their breath.

"Oh no he's trying to pull it off slowly ..." Ross grimaced. It wasn't a pretty sight and yet they just couldn't tear themselves loose.

"Take it from me, if you're going to be pulling tape off yourself it's gotta be in one quick motion –"

It almost seemed as if he had heard Joey. Chandler had always wondered how much the King of Squishyness actually was aware of his faithful audience that now collectively winced and hissed in sympathy.

"Like that!"

Right. One quick motion. He'd never been one to tear off sticky tape quickly either, but time and experience had shown that it did work better most of the times. So maybe it would work on Sunday too when they would come out? Really quick. Hey there, just a quick announcement, Monica and I have been doing it practically nonstop since London and we've decided to let you into our secret now. Thank you for your attention. Cheers!

It would be so great if they could do it like that.

.

.

And then, hardly an hour later, the two of them suddenly found themselves alone when they hadn't expected to be until it was night, or even after midnight. But Ross had kept gazing longingly at Ugly Naked Apartment until Phoebe had taken pity on him and suggested going over to find out if the apartment could already be viewed. And Rachel had wanted to come too, and as soon as they had gone Joey had left too, ostensibly to get coffee at the Perk, but really as Chandler suspected, to check on his newest acquisition, a giant stuffed penguin he was somehow crazy about. He didn't know how Joey had gotten him and couldn't really care less. He was alone with Monica. That was all that counted.

He looked at Monica and smiled, shrugging good-naturedly when her gaze slid to the living-room table that was still strewn with empty boxes and paper-bags, and then got up to help her clearing it all up. He knew from long experience that she would never be at ease until she had finished and the clearing up never took long. Also it was much more fun to steal kisses and copping feels from her while she was busy with straightening the couch and cleaning the table. As he had expected she was finished quite quickly and they went over to the window to check on Ugly Naked Guy's apartment. The King of Unclothed Splendor was nowhere to be seen and there were only a few boxes and cartons left.

"Wow, can you imagine Ross living there?"

"He'll probably spend all his time standing at the window and waving. Maybe we should get him a semaphore for his birthday."

Monica turned to face him. "Do you realize …"

"… that in less than 48 hours we won't be secret anymore? Yeah."

"Are you nervous?"

"Who, me? Nervous? No. Apprehensive? No. Petrified? Oh yeah."

"Aw, it won't be that bad. I think it'll be fun. I can't wait to see their faces!"

"And then it'll be over. For good. No more sneaking. No more secret sex. From then on everybody will know when we have sex. Every time. Anywhere."

"Not when we're alone!"

"Sure, but then they'll just assume that we're having sex. Especially your brother. Do you realize if he gets Ugly Naked Apartment he'll be able to see us having sex?"

"Only in the living-room" she objected. "We haven't done it here that often anyway."

"That's not true. We've done it here … Where did you have the Christmas tree, over here? So there too … and on the couch, under the couch, against the couch …"

Monica pursed her lips, her eyes glinting and he suddenly felt his heartrate speed up. "So what're you're saying, we should do it one last time before Ross gets the apartment? Provided of course that he gets it."

"I'm saying we should do it regardless. And in a spot where we haven't done it before … hmm …" He pretended to be thinking about this while all he could really think about was how good that black tight skirt looked on her.

"Then I'd say, here at the window. The future no-go area." And with that she was already leaning in to loosen his belt and then fumbled at the buttons and zippers of his pants until they slid down to his ankles. He opened the buttons of her blue jacket and helped her out of it by pushing it down over her arms so she could let it fall to the floor, then slid his hands under her thin top, opening her bra with one and the button of her skirt with the other at the same time. When her skirt too slid down as she wriggled out of it he pressed her close to him, the smooth feel of her back and buttocks under his hands and the way she rubbed one leg against his suddenly igniting a ragingly urgent desire for her, a desire that couldn't be held back for even another minute or as long as it would take them to cover the distance to her bedroom. Besides, she had wanted it here, right here, where they hadn't done before. They had done it on the floor though, he distinctly remembered that so that left only the desk or the window-seat. Or even better, the window. It had been quite some time since they had done it standing up and this spot had the additional advantage that Monica could support herself on the window seat if need be. So he braced himself and heaved her up in his arms, pressing her against the window while she held on to his shoulders and clamped her mouth on his, her hand grasping and closing around his penis that already protruded urgently from his boxers. She guided him in and gasped into their kiss when he pushed into her and thrusted upwards as hard as he could, completely caught up in the act, the feel of her body, the hot wet tightness of her around him, the way her breasts crushed against his face with the nipples sliding into his mouth seemingly by themselves, her hectic panting echoing his, their moaning and soft screaming, as they rocked increasingly faster to and fro against the window. When he felt his climax building up he tried to go even faster, to withdraw as much as he could without sliding out altogether and push in deeply again with each thrust, until Monica was almost howling in her throes. Then it was as if nothing around them mattered or was even there anymore, the world around them receding, almost ceasing to exist.

.

.

On entering Central Perk about half an hour later he still couldn't help feeling freaked. Sated, yes, ooohh yes, and elated, all the usual post-coital rush of emotions in fact, but also completely freaked. How could it be that nobody noticed anything different about him now? He'd just had sex for crying out loud, in these very clothes, in this sweater vest that Monica had clawed at and rubbed herself against, the hottest and wildest sex imaginable, right there in the living-room – if anyone had happened to come in at that moment, the secret would have been out there and then. But nobody had, and nobody seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary about him either as he went to the bar to order two coffees with muffins to go, for him and Monica who had to stay in for a call from her friend Linda in case anybody asked. But nobody did, least of all Joey, Rachel and Phoebe who all sat in their usual place on the big couch and greeted him cheerfully.

Or so he thought until he turned and found Phoebe approaching and standing close to him. Too close actually. But it probably was just his post-coital imagination playing tricks on him.

"Hey."

"Hey! Ooh, wow that jacket looks great on you!"

Or was it?!

"Really?" Oh god, and now she felt his sleeve. What the -?

"Yeah the material feels so soft … oooh, hello Mr. Bicep! Have you been working out?"

He tried not to show how puzzled and confounded she made him feel, shrugging her remark off as if it was completely normal that Phoebe of all people should notice his coat and even compliment him. Twice actually.

"Well, I try to y'know, squeeze things ..." When she started to giggle helplessly at this and even appeared to be blushing, his confusion increased. What was this? Granted, Phoebe was weird, always had been, plus she had been under a lot of stress lately, but she had been much worse and yet had never behaved like this. Why now?

"Are you okay?"

"Well, if you really wanna know, I'm—Oh! I can't tell you this." Now she was hiding her face in her hands, like a schoolgirl, and he felt alarm signals going off and blaring in his mind. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

"Phoebe, it's me. You can tell me anything."

She stopped giggling, if only with an effort, and faced him earnestly – or with faked earnest, he couldn't quite tell. He had never been able to tell with her. "Well actually you're the one person I can't tell this too. And the one person I want to the most."

"What's going on?" But he already knew even though he couldn't admit it to himself since it seemed so utterly insane and nonsensical. If his own mother had been standing there giving him the eye, he could not have been more shocked. And yet Phoebe, Phoebe of all people was trying to flirt with him! He had seen her doing it with other guys, admiring her smooth seemingly effortless moves and feeling relieved at the same time that he wasn't the one she was trying to beguile, that he was her friend and nothing more. Unlike Monica she had never stirred the slightest romantic interest in him. Of course he found her attractive – who wouldn't when confronted with so much classic beauty, that gorgeous hair, perfect skin, the cool challenge in her green eyes – but always in a distant guarded way, like he would look at a leopard or a beautiful flower. And besides, she was his friend. They had gone through so much together. Much like Monica before London in fact, and yet completely different.

"I think it's just y'know that I haven't been with a guy in so long and how sometimes you're looking for something and you just don't even see that it's right there in front of you sipping coffee—" Chandler did a double take, his eyes widening. Could she make it any clearer? But it couldn't be, it just couldn't …

"Oh no, have I said too much? Well it's just something to think about. I know I will."

And so would he. Most definitely, and fervently hoping that he had been mistaken all the while. And oh god, now as she turned away there was no mistaking her way of bending over ostensibly to get her coat, but really to give him a good look at her ass. Which he admittedly had never really noticed especially, to him it was just one more part of her that made her his weird, quirky, beautiful and valued friend. Who was now shoving her ass almost in his face. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Rachel and Joey staring at them with almost identical expressions of disbelief, and it made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. And then another thought suddenly occurred to him and he had to make an effort not to let his dismay show too much. Was it possible that Phoebe had somehow sensed that he'd just had sex? Maybe it had shown in some way that only she could perceive – they all knew how completely Phoebe was wrapped in all that esoteric stuff, how firmly she believed in it, and how weirdly accurate her perceptions often were. Was it possible that all that sex, that huge amount of sex he had had in the last four (almost five) months was finally making itself felt, had left traces she could sense, or maybe even smell on him? Was he maybe giving off some sort of sex pheromones now that somehow made him attractive to her in some way?

When Gunther ponderously cleared his throat behind him Chandler almost jumped out of his skin. Wordlessly he paid and then took up the bag of muffins and the coffees and hurried out without looking back.

He desperately needed to talk to Monica. There was no way around it.

.

.

However, when he got back to #20, Ross too had returned and was devouring Monica's cookies while he kept going on about the Ugly Naked Apartment which by now seemed to be a place even more desirable than a field full of dinosaur bones, something rapidly approaching the status of the Garden of Eden and El Dorado wrapped in one as far as Ross was concerned. It was only much later, near midnight, that he finally got to be alone with Monica again and by then the first doubts had started creeping in. About the veracity of Phoebe's intentions for one, and also about the wisdom of telling Monica about it. What if she took it the wrong way? She was often quite unpredictable, that was one of the many things he found irresistible about her. What if his disclosures made her mad at Phoebe, or at least suspicious, and thus jeopardize their friendship? And, even worse, what if it made her mad at him? So, as strange and confusing it all was, he felt well advised to proceed with caution.

When she came over at last, they both felt that for once there was no urgency and they could take it slow. Their afternoon stunt seemed to have taken the edge off their desire and for a long time they were content just to lie on his bed with their arms around each other, still in their underwear, with a candle or two, and talk aimlessly while they cuddled. Somewhere in the back of his mind Chandler still felt uneasy, but here in his room with Monica in such a happy and playful mood he couldn't help but feeling that he had been mistaken after all and that what had happened with Phoebe wasn't quite so weird as he had thought. And if he went about it the right way, with due caution, he could talk it over with Monica after all.

"You know, I've been thinking …"

"You've been thinking? When was that?" Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she grinned at him.

"Oh – um, at 16 hours and 45 minutes and, I think – I think! 32 seconds."

She laughed and for the umpteenth time he caught himself appreciating that laugh, appreciating her – yes, loving her. So much in fact it almost made him ache.

"Okay then, what were you thinking?"

"Well … about all that sex we had. It's so much. Much more than I've ever had before in my whole life. I don't know about you, but …"

"Oh, the same. Definitely. I mean, I had a lot of sex before, but never so much for so long. Not every day or even twice a day. You're right. So what about it?"

"Well, I was thinking, has it changed us? Am I changed? Is there a vibe about me now that says 'I've been having a lot of sex lately'?"

Monica pursed her lips. "I wouldn't know. It would be the same for me. You'd have to ask someone else. Um, Joey? No, he wouldn't notice. Rachel – or Phoebe. But she would have said something if she'd noticed."

"Yeah. I guess. No actually you're right, if there was a vibe somebody would have noticed by now."

"Do you feel changed by all the sex?"

"Hmmm. Maybe. I'm not sure. Well, we just have to wait and see. When I'll wake up one morning to find that I've grown a fluffy tail -"

Monica laughed and snuggled closer, gently running her foot up his calf. It gave him goosebumps.

"You are so cute! How did you get to be so cute?"

"Well, my grandfather was Swedish and my grandmother was actually a tiny little bunny."

She pressed closer and started to ruffle his t-shirt. "Okay, now you're even cuter!"

It was as good an opening as he was likely to get. "Y'know that is a popular opinion today I must say."

"What?"

He picked his words carefully. "The weirdest thing happened at the coffee house. I think … I think Phoebe was hitting on me."

"What are you talking about?" Still only amused he noted. So far so good.

"I'm telling you I think Phoebe thinks I'm foxy!"

Monica shook her head decidedly. "That's not possible!"

"Ou-ow!" But he smiled to show her he wasn't really hurt. Even though he was – just a little. But only sort of.

"I'm sorry it's just, Phoebe just always thought you were, you were charming in a, in a sexless kind of way."

"Oh, y'know I - I can't hear that enough." But actually, that sounded a lot more like the Phoebe he knew.

"I'm sorry, I think that you just misunderstood her."

"No, I didn't misunderstand, okay? She was all over me! She touched my bicep for crying out loud!"

"This bicep?" Now she twinkled at him as she touched his arms and he rolled his eyes.

"Well it's not flexed right now! Why is it so hard for you to believe that Phoebe could be attracted to me?"

All of a sudden it seemed important that Monica believed him. But if he started telling her how weird it had felt and how inappropriate, it could spoil their mood and he decided then and there that there were more important matters. As strange as this thing with Phoebe had been, it could wait. Until tomorrow perhaps or even until the big reveal. After that it would be moot anyway.

Monica put her hand on his face, gently pinching his cheek and leaning in to kiss him.

"It's not" she cooed. "All the girls are attracted to you. You're part bunny!"

He caught her to him and kissed her back, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her on top of him as their kiss deepened. Soon he felt himself stirring against her and she responded in turn by relaxing, seemingly softening and spreading out as if she was opening up to him, inviting him in. Their tongues met and rubbed against each other until they had to break the kiss to get some air.

"And just so you know what they say about bunnies …" he murmured while he slowly slid one hand into her panties over her buttocks. She held herself away a little at that, smiling tenderly at him while she took the scrunchy out of her ponytail and shook out her hair.

"What about it?"

Holding her tight to him he rolled himself over and on top of her. "Well, believe it or not, it's all true."


	34. The Messing Game, part 2

St Valentine's Eve. One day until St Valentine's Day and the big reveal. One last day of secrecy.

Only one more day.

One more day until the next level of their relationship. Until they could stand before the world – well, their friends – and declare themselves for better or worse. Tell everyone that they were a couple. A couple in a serious relationship that had lasted for 21 weeks now. 21 whole long weeks! Five whole months on next Thursday. It seemed quite unbelievable that they had managed to stay together for so long. Longer than each of them had been with anyone else, even if you counted all three times Chandler had been with Janice, and the extra week she had spent with Richard, pretending they were just friends. But in truth all that didn't really count. Because she and Chandler had been together the whole time, with no interruption, no break, all through those 21 weeks. Dating, doing it, spending days and nights together, as a couple, as lovers.

Yes, lovers. She loved him, had always loved him, she was freely admitting it to herself now and also determined not to hold it back anymore. Tomorrow, when they revealed each other she would also say it, out loud, for everyone to hear. Until then, until that last day had dragged by, she had to keep it in, contain herself, try to act normal. As if it was just another Saturday.

For all that it was so special the day had seemed to pass by quite normally so far. They all had met for a leisurely breakfast late in the morning, chatting and laughing over bagels and pancakes until almost noon, making plans for the afternoon or just relaxing. Ross had left quite early to take Ben to a school thing and Joey had just returned to #19 to look after the chick and the duck – or so he had claimed at least. By now they all knew how smitten he was with his new toy, the big stuffed penguin he called Hugsy and how he couldn't bear to leave it alone for even half an hour. Rachel and Phoebe were still discussing the pro and cons of going shopping or seeing a movie. Monica who was finishing the last of the dishes couldn't help but notice though that every now and then one or both of them would glance furtively at Chandler who was reading the paper quite unconcernedly. Yup, it couldn't be denied, there was something going on, something below the surface that she couldn't make out. It seemed there was more to that silly story of Phoebe hitting on Chandler after all. Last night, when he had told her about it, it had seemed quite absurd, almost as if he had made it up. It wasn't as if nobody would ever find Chandler 'foxy' – quite on the contrary, she was only too well aware that he was lot more attractive than she was comfortable with – but Phoebe of all people flirting with him, trying to beguile him? Even considering what she had gone through in the past weeks it seemed unreal. And wrong. Phoebe's taste in men, though quite catholic, usually ran to guys of either much physical prowess or great intellectual powers. And if she would really consider taking it up with a friend, Joey would be the most obvious choice for her, or even Ross. Not Chandler, never him. Monica remembered vividly the numerous occasions when Phoebe had dismissed him as too gawky, too whiny, too sarcastic and so on and so forth. She liked him when he was hurt and suffering, and she could feel sorry for him and mother him a little. But that never lasted for long, just until he would get uncomfortable and she would feel rejected by him or at least misunderstood. They were just too different. She was always too weird for him and he too much spoilt little rich boy for her, and it was rare for them that they could even take each other seriously.

Plus, she was quite sure that Phoebe wasn't his type at all. Nor he hers.

Right, that was the last of the dishes done. Now she only had to check her bedroom, change her shoes, and then, if they were lucky and Rachel and Phoebe left, she could have some alone time with Chandler before Ross came back. Time in which they could plan their last secret day together. And their last secret night of course.

When she came out of her bedroom again, Chandler was still ostensibly studying the paper while Phoebe and Rachel had at least agreed to go to the movies, but were still debating whether 'Payback' or 'Simply Irresistible' was the better choice.

"Hey Mon, what are you doing now? Wanna come see a movie with us?"

Damn it, she had forgotten to think up a plausible excuse beforehand. Oh well, there was always their gold standard she could fall back on …

"Uhh, you know actually I was gonna do some laundry." Laundry. Somehow it fitted too, as their last excuse ever. Soon they would never need to think up excuses just to be together anymore. Somehow the thought made her reckless.

"Hey Chandler, wanna do it with me?"

"Sure, I'll do it with ya!" When he almost jumped up from his chair grinning broadly, she felt a moment of doubt. Had they laid it on too thick? What if they got suspicious now, now of all times, so soon before the reveal – she couldn't bear to even think of it. And as if to confirm her worst fears, Phoebe and Rachel exchanged a quick glance, and Rachel suddenly jumped to her feet.

"Okay great, hold on a sec!" And she ran to her room, returning almost immediately with a huge bag of laundry that she lugged to the couch and almost collapsed over. "Oh, here you go! You don't mind, do ya? That would really help me out a lot! Thanks!"

Oh my god, that had to be at least three machines – no way they would be able to finish that until the two of them were back. She caught herself glancing at Chandler and tore herself away again.

"I mean I - I don't I think I have enough quarters ..." Okay, that sounded lame even in her ears.

"I have quarters!" Oh yes, Phoebe had quarters. A whole bag of quarters that she held up to them almost triumphantly. What the hell was going on?

"Great, now we can do laundry all night, all night laundry!" Chandler spat.

Just as Monica was debating with herself which excuse would sound more believable Ross came in, breaking the tension mostly by being completely unaware of it in his focus on his most cherished object of utmost desire.

"Hey Ross! Any word on the apartment yet?"

"Well, I called over there and it turns out Ugly Naked Guy is subletting it himself and he's already had like a hundred applicants."

They all oohed and awed to that and Monica felt bad for him, even though it was no less than she had expected. And yet Ross was still smirking.

"No-no, because you know the difference between them and me is?"

Chandler's mouth promptly ran away with him again. "Your history of bed wetting?"

Ross looked stricken. "I trusted you man!" But his need to brag proved stronger than his momentary hurt. "Anyway, the difference is I got the _**edge**_. I know it's not exactly ethical but I sent him a little bribe to tip the scales in my direction." Now his eyes were gleaming triumphantly. "Check it out, you can probably see it from the window!"

The problem was that there were a lot of things that could be seen in Ugly Naked Guy's living-room now, what looked like dozens of new things that hadn't been there the day before, and nearly all of them giftwrapped in colorful paper with ribbons and bows on it, even glitter …

"Oh, is it that pinball machine with the big bow on it?"

"No …" The corners of Ross' mouth started to droop.

"That new mountain bike?"

"No." Now he sounded more and more dismayed.

"Well what did you send?!"

Ross winced. "A basket of mini-muffins …"

"But there's a whole table of mini-muffin baskets. Which one did you send?"

"The small one ..."

"What?! You-you actually thought that basket was gonna get you the apartment?"

Of course he had. It wasn't even giftwrapped like the others.

"Well yeah! Someone sent us a basket at work once and people went crazy over those little muffins." He smiled dreamily. "It was the best day ..!"

"Your work makes me sad." Chandler commented dryly, expressing more or less what everybody thought out loud.

"Oh man! I want that place so much! I was so sure that was gonna work!" Now Ross looked ready to cry. "There's twelve bucks I'll never see again!"

And with that he left, still seething. Probably to see if he could find another basket of muffins of twice the size and half the price. Since nobody felt inclined to try and watch the UNG's reaction to his newest possessions, they all turned away from the window again, and Rachel looked at her watch.

"All right honey, we'd better go if we wanna catch that movie."

Oh thank heaven, they were really leaving, waving and calling out their byes. But then, just as she was starting to relax, Phoebe went out of her way to pass Chandler a little closer than necessary, and even tried to catch his eye.

"Bye Chandler!" she said sweetly, adding in a quieter voice "I miss you already ..." and, as if to make it more obvious still, she pinched his butt.

Phoebe. Pinched. Chandler's. Butt.

Needless to say that Chandler looked shocked to the core. For a split second Monica wondered if this was actually the first time he had gotten his butt pinched by a woman. Other than Janice that was, or maybe his mother.

"Okay, did you see that?!" Now he was spluttering. "With the inappropriate and the pinching?!"

"Actually, I did!" Her mind was racing. What could it mean? Why would Phoebe do such a thing?

"Okay, so now do you believe that she's attracted to me?"

And then the penny finally dropped and Monica felt as if the floor was jerked away from under her feet.

"Ohhh, oh my God! Oh my God! She knows about us!"

Chandler looked dubious. "Are you serious?"

"Phoebe knows and she's just trying to freak us out! That's the only explanation for it!"

Why else would she have acted like she did right under her friend's nose? Only when Chandler looked rather hurt, she realized how it must have sounded to him.

"Okay, but what about you know my pinchable butt and my bulging biceps -" For a moment he seemed determined to persist in his delusion, only to make a complete turnaround there and then, making a joke of it, and quite gracefully too. "She knows!" It almost broke her heart, and yet this ability to laugh at himself also made him even more lovable for her, if that was even possible.

That and also the expression of utter relief on his face now of course.

.

They found Joey dozing in his chair with his arms firmly wrapped around Hugsy. When Chandler glared at him he started up and made a futile effort to hide the stuffed penguin behind his back.

"Phoebe knows about us!"

Joey immediately went into the defensive. "Well **I** didn't tell them!"

"Them?! Who's them?" Did they all know now? The very thought sent a shiver down her back.

"Uhhh, Phoebe … and Joey."

It was unbelievable. "Joey?!"

Joey gave in. "And Rachel! I would've told you but they made me promise not to tell!"

Chandler looked disgusted. "Oh man!"

"I'm sorry! But hey, it's over now, right? Because you can tell them that you know they know and **I** can go back to knowing absolutely nothing!"

Of course, that would be the easiest way, and the most sensible too. But it also meant giving up their big surprise. The cherished big Valentine reveal. And she simply couldn't do that, not without a fight. And right on the heels of that an idea wormed itself in her brain.

"Unless …!"

"No! Not unless!" Joey protested. "Look, this must end now!" But she ignored him.

"Oh man, they think they are so **slick** messing with us!" But not with her, oh no. She could play as well as anyone, even better. Already she could feel her heartrate increasing and the familiar tingling running down her spine that she always got when she faced a challenge.

"But see, they don't know that we know that they know! So …"

And Chandler, bless him, took up her cue and even finished her sentence for her. "Ahh yes, the messers become the messees!" She'd always known she could rely on him when push came to shove.

Joey however seemed less than thrilled.

"Come on you guys. Think about how much fun it would be to tell!" and then he hummed something that sounded like "We know, we know, we know ...!" while gazing at them hopefully. Chandler looked totally confused.

"What?"

"Oh ... that wasn't you ..." Joey sighed deeply. "But it would have been so great. You know? Everybody singing 'We know we know we know …" and that would be it! No more secrets!"

"Too late for that, Joey." Monica grew sad for a moment at the thought of their beautiful Valentine reveal plan. "We actually wanted to reveal ourselves tomorrow, but I guess that's out the window now – what's so funny?" she demanded when Joey suddenly guffawed.

"Nothing – well, when you said 'window' – you know?" He frowned at her when she shook her head, confused. "That's where Phoebe saw you."

"Through the window? She saw us - -", but the awful truth was already dawning on her, confirmed by Joey's smirk, as her knees gave out and she plopped down on the Barcalounger.

"Yup. They saw you doing it when they were in Ugly Naked Guy's apartment."

"Oh the irony …" Chandler murmured.

Monica set her teeth. "So they saw – that and now they're trying to mess with us? Ha! Let's see them try! Joey - -"

"No! No-no! I won't be part of this!"

"But Joey …!"

"I said no!" And Joey turned his back on them with his hands on his ears, heading for the door. Just as he reached it however, he turned back again, but only to retrieve Hugsy from the floor behind his chair and put it into his room, refusing to look at them the entire time. When he had left for good, after almost slamming the door behind him, Monica sighed.

"So … what kind of evil messing scheme did my wily chef cook up now?" Chandler inquired sweetly, his eyes gleaming and just like that the shock of Phoebe seeing them was forgotten. Chandler was willing to play along, to help her in this messing game – that alone was almost enough to let her excitement almost overwhelm her. Yes, it was a pity about the spoiled reveal. But maybe this was even better, to end all this time of sneaking around and fooling their friends with the ultimate messing contest. She could hardly wait.

"Well, they'll be at the movies now, so we got at least two hours …" She grinned when his expression immediately became speculative and snuggled closer to him. "Two hours … to get you ready."

"Me? For what?"

"To seduce Phoebe. Until she backs down!"

To his credit he only flinched a little. "Um. Okay … sure. Seduce Phoebe who thinks I'm charming in a sexless way – no problem."

"Just turn on the bunny charm!" She pushed her hands under his sweater vest and started to rub his back. "She'll never see it coming, you can totally take her by surprise!"

"Hum." Chandler made a big show of pondering this. "I guess it could work …"

"Of course it will!" She pressed closer.

"… but we should really rehearse it before. Just for safety."

"Of course we'll rehearse – oohh, you meant that - ooh yes. Oooohhh …" When he wrapped his arms around her, sliding one hand under her sweater and cupping her buttocks with the other as he kissed her she felt her heartrate speeding up crazily. For a minute they remained in place, pressing against each other while they savored their closeness, the way their bodies fitted together so effortlessly, their growing desire. Then quite abruptly they started to head for Chandler's bedroom, she walking backwards and pulling him and he steering and urging her along. Once they were inside Chandler kicked the door shut without letting go of her. Much practice had them get out of their clothes in next to no time, each opening buttons, belts and zippers on the other with the ease of long experience while they kicked off their shoes just in time to avoid snagging any pantlegs in them. Monica stepped on the bed and stood on it for a moment so he could tug down her slacks and panties and kiss her breasts and abdomen at the same time while she pressed against him and ran her hands down his naked back. Then he got on the bed too, kneeling and slowly pulling her down to his level, kissing every inch of her he could reach while she rubbed herself on him shuddering and moaning. When his penis hardened she closed her hand around it and started to stimulate him further while her other hand clenched on his buttocks. Hooking one of her legs over his arm he reached under her to slip two fingers into her while his thumb gently teased her clit. It made her ache for him and she concentrated on that feeling, that overwhelming desire for him until it seemed to her that she was coming undone, everything of her dissolving and spreading out. When he laid her down and slowly pushed into her his body seemed the only solid thing that she could cling to in the tight hot bubble that was ensconcing them, shutting everything around them out.

.

"Wow. Oh god. Ummm … ah, think that's enough rehearsal now, or should we –"

"Mmmh … um, what? Oh my god, what time is it? Do you think they're back already?"

"Relax. Just half past five. We've lots of time."

"You think? But we haven't even decided – mmmh … ummm … Okay, enough of that. How are we going to play this?"

"You tell me. It's your plan!"

"Right. First of all – you call her and invite her over."

"For a date? Tonight?"

"Yes! You need to be the one in control. Go into the offensive, make the decisions. Don't let her take the reins!"

"Offensive, decisions, take the reins … okay. I can do that."

"Of course you can!"

"You'll help me though, right?"

.

.

Rachel's voice from the phone sounded slightly tinny and as if she was much farther away than just about twenty yards from where they stood.

"Hello! Oh yeah! Hey! Hold on a second she's right here!" and almost inaudible "It's Chandler ..!"

And then Phoebe came on the line, with that subtle challenge in her tone that made Monica's hackles rise.

"Oh? Hello you ..!"

"Hello Phoebe, I've been thinking about you all day." She had to hand it to him, it sounded exactly as if he really meant it, hopeful and even urgent. It seemed to throw Phoebe for a loop.

"Eh?"

"Well you know that thing you said before, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued." It was so brilliant that she wholeheartedly forgave him his self-congratulatory silent cackling.

"Really?" Phoebe sounded quite taken aback. It worked, oh my god, it worked …

"Yeah, listen, Joey isn't gonna be here tonight so why don't you come over and I'll let you uh, feel my bicep." Chandler seemed really inspired now. "Or maybe more ..!"

She could almost hear Phoebe swallow. "I'll have to get back to you on that. Okay, bye!"

It was unbelievable. She had hung up on them. Phoebe of all people had been so shocked she had hung up!

"Yes!" She threw her arms around his neck, joining him wholeheartedly as he tossed the phone into the chair and started his victory dance.

"That'll show them! The first round goes to the messees!"

.

When they entered #20 again the tension was almost palpable even at first glance, and she was glad to have Chandler near her as she tried to anticipate their next move. They didn't have long to wait. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Phoebe and Rachel with their heads together discussing their options – with poor Joey sulking on the window seat – and tried to tell herself that she was still ahead of them. They were in the lead, on top of it. Had to be.

"Look at them, they're-they're panicked!"

"Oh yeah, they're totally gonna back down!"

And yet, when Phoebe rose to come over to them, she could see her suppressing her laughter just before she adjusted her expression to wide-eyed seductive anticipation. She had laughed! It almost made her freeze to the spot until Chandler had to shoo her away and she reluctantly retreated to the couch, trying hard to appear as if she wasn't watching that strange duel out of the corner of her eye. But then they all did, especially Rachel who stared at the two in total fascination.

"So Chandler, I-I'd love to come by tonight." She had to hand it to Phoebe, if she hadn't known better that blatant 'come hither' look and sultry voice would have completely fooled her. Chandler seemed to take it well though, with just the right expression of uncomfortable and yet hopeful surprise.

"Really?"

"Oh absolutely. Shall we say, around seven?"

He pulled himself together at the last second, only croaking his "Y-yes ..!" just a little.

"Good. I'm really looking forward to you and me having sexual intercourse."

That however did hit home. He barely managed to hide his surprise until Phoebe had turned away, only to mouth a silent scream as soon as her back was to him, and Monica had to restrain herself not to make her shushing motions too obvious. Urgh. As much as she hated to admit it, that round – the opening round at least – clearly went to the other team. As she clenched her fists and tried to stop herself from kicking the couch in her frustration, Joey sang out from the window-seat.

"Hey-hey, check it out! Check it out! Ugly Naked Guy has a naked friend!"

The way they all rushed to the window told her how fiercely glad they all welcomed the distraction. Not for long however. Of course it was Rachel who realized it first.

"Oh yeah! Oh my God! That is **our** friend! It's Naked Ross!"

EWWW. She jumped back as if she had inadvertently touched a hotplate and pressed her face to Chandler's shoulder, glad that he was so readily available and at the same time worried that the others would notice he was holding her a little too tightly. But then they were all too busy taking in the sight of her butt-naked brother in Ugly Naked Guy's chair, cheerfully sipping tea and chatting their neighbor up. She could only hope that this latest strategy of his would do the trick.

.

And then it was getting on to 7 p.m., the appointed hour, and she had to repeatedly fight down her anxiety by reassuring herself as much as Chandler. If only he didn't have to be upfront, she hated the thought of him having to fight her battle. But then it was his battle too, they were in this together for better or worse. So she busied herself with twitching at his clothes and forcing mouth spray down his throat.

"All right, it'll be great! You just make her think you wanna have sex with her! It'll totally freak her out!"

"Okay, listen, how far am I gonna have to go with her?"

In a way it was really considerate of him to ask that. As if she would ever let Phoebe have her way with him. Though she wasn't sure about it herself. They really needed to win this at all costs.

"Relax, she's gonna give in way before you do!"

"How do you know?!"

"Because you're on my team! And my team always wins!"

"At this?!"

He had a point. Was there any way to win this, to come out ahead? She couldn't see it yet, but it didn't matter. Couldn't matter. All that mattered now was to get Phoebe to admit defeat.

"Just go get some!" She kissed him hard for luck and then it was time. "Go!" And with that she hurried to the bathroom to hide behind the door that was kept open just a crack by a strategically placed doorstop. She had run some hurried experiments earlier to determine just how wide the crack needed to be to allow her to watch Chandler without being seen herself, and found herself agonizing again that it wasn't wide enough. She could see Chandler if he kept close to the counter, but not Phoebe, unless she stepped forward - - And right there was her knock, dead on time.

"Phoebe ..!"

"Chandler."

"Come on in." Good, his voice sounded totally calm, even with a hint of amusement. So far so good …

"I was going too. Umm, I brought some wine. Would you like some?"

"Sure."

And there was Phoebe. Oh my god, she had changed, and into that dark blue dress too that so enhanced her blonde hair and perfect complexion. And the top two buttons were open too … She couldn't bear to watch this. How could Chandler keep so calm?

"So, here we are. Nervous?"

"Me? No. You?"

Well, she was nervous. Nervous as hell, knuckle-whitening nervous, and there was really only one thing she could do about it.

"No, I want this to happen."

"So do I."

Ah, there it was, under the sink. And an almost full spray bottle of bathroom cleaner too. She would have preferred to scrub something when she was this nervous, but it would make too much noise, so spraying and wiping would have to do for now. Thank god Ross hadn't had so much time lately as he used to, so at least her work here would not be in vain. So wipe she did, first the tiles on the walls with long practiced sweeps that almost immediately had them shine again just like in those stupid commercials that she could never stop herself from watching no matter how unrealistic they were. It helped shutting out that sparring in the living-room as Phoebe tried to throw all she had at Chandler, only slightly deterred by his odd choice of music.

"So maybe I'll dance for you."

That actually calmed her again a little. Phoebe's dancing always looked almost as dorky as Chandler's.

"You look good." Still slightly amused, but also with a hint of nervousness now. Monica grimly started on the other wall, but kept an anxious ear out for what went down in the living-room next.

"Thanks! You know, that when you say things like that it makes me wanna rip that … sweater vest … right off!"

Monica desperately eyed the toilet brush, trying to decide if it really would make too much noise if she gave that bowl a good scrubbing, and then let it go. It would probably distract her too much anyway.

"Well, why don't we move this into the bedroom?"

Yes! Chandler was going into the offensive, just like she had told him to. She wanted to kiss him for that and for how totally Phoebe seemed to be taken aback, if only for a second.

"Really?"

"Oh, do you not want to?" Yes, he was playing it just right. Her hero.

"No. No! It's just you know first, I wanna take off all my clothes and have you rub lotion on me."

Aw shoot. There went her triumph again. It just didn't do to underestimate Phoebe. She had to hand it to Chandler though, for maintaining that cool, even though he did gulp rather noticeably.

"Well, that would be nice. I'll go get the lotion ..!"

She managed just in time to put the cleaning rag away before he rushed in and confronted her, almost shaking now.

"Listen, this is totally getting out of hand! Okay? She wants me to put lotion on her!"

"She's bluffing!" She just had to be. The other option just didn't bear thinking. Although the idea in itself wasn't bad really …

"Look, she's not backing down! She went like this!" He demonstrated the way Phoebe had swayed and undulated, almost cracking her up.

"I know! But you're doing great!" She grabbed his shoulders and kissed him hard. "She won't be able to take much more, you'll see! You almost had her just now!"

That got her a self-satisfied grin. "You saw that, didn't you?"

"Yes! Just remember, she really won't be able to go all the way." She handed him a bottle of lotion from the shelf over the sink, wondering if it belonged to Ross and then decided it didn't matter. "Now go back out there and seduce her till she cracks!"

"Okay, give me a second!" Chandler took a deep breath to steady himself, and then frowned as he took in his surroundings. "Did you clean up in here?!"

"Of course." Trust him to notice something like this when he really should keep his attention on the task at hand. When he was too slow in leaving she gave him a push that almost made him stumble, regretting it as soon as she saw that Phoebe had gone back to the door, probably only to confer with Rachel, but maybe, hopefully …

"Oh, you're-you're going?" Phoebe giving up already? Nope, no such luck.

"Umm, not without you, lover." Oh my god, her top was open almost to her waist, showcasing her bra for everyone to see. Especially Chandler. All of a sudden Monica remembered that fateful Thanksgiving football game where Phoebe had flashed Chandler to get him to give up the ball. It had worked then, almost spectacularly so, if only the one time – he had been incoherent for almost a minute afterwards.

"So, this is my bra …"

Would he really fall for it again? He was gulping again now and his voice when he spoke had taken on a slightly rougher timbre, but that could still be just playacting …

"It's very, very nice. Well, come here. I'm very happy we're gonna have all the sex."

"You should be. I'm very bendy."

Ohgodohgodohgod, she was still not backing down. How was that even possible?

"I'm gonna kiss you now."

"Not if I kiss you first." Great counter, but Monica suddenly realized she couldn't unclench her hands anymore. Chandler and Phoebe were slowly moving closer to each other now and Phoebe hesitantly put her hand on his waist. He in turn reached out for her with his right hand, only to withdraw it again and put his left hand on her hip instead. It started to look like some sort of weird dance or maybe the opening moves of a wrestling match. Then Phoebe smiled sweetly at him as she grabbed his butt and Chandler, as he digested this, let his free hand hover over her breast for a moment before deciding to go for her shoulder instead. Now their noses were only inches apart and still neither of them showing any sign of forfeit, the tension between them seemingly thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Well, I guess there's nothing left for us to do but … but kiss."

"Here it comes. Our first kiss ..!"

The way their heads drew close so slowly and reluctantly got Monica to think of two magnets forcibly being pushed together by their equally poled ends. But when it actually did happen and their lips really and truly touched and pressed against each other she found herself frozen to the spot, completely unable to interfere even if she had known how to. There seemed to be only room for one more thought left in her brain that repeated itself over and over.

_If he goes through with this it's my own fault, if he goes through with this it's my own fault, if he goes through - _

Except he didn't. Their lips had hardly touched, with Phoebe's eyes widening in surprise, when he already pulled back again and even pushed Phoebe away.

"Okay! Okay! Okay! You win! You win! I can't have sex with you!"

Oh thank god and all the angels in heaven.

"And why not?!" Phoebe was grinning now, in triumph but also a good deal relieved as it looked like.

"Because I'm in love with Monica!"

If the earth had opened up under her feet she couldn't have been more shocked. Phoebe too seemed thunderstruck.

"You're - you're **what**?!"

For a moment Monica panicked when it felt like she couldn't move, but then the spell broke and her feet obeyed her again, enabling her to bolt out of the bathroom towards him.

"Love her! That's right, I-LOVE-HER! I love her!" No, it wasn't a mere slip of the tongue now. No more taking back, no denying. He was almost dancing in place now, flailing his arms and pointing her out, even repeating his declaration until everybody present – which now included Rachel and Joey who had come in wearing almost identical expressions of disbelief and awe – as well as their neighbors above and below them must have gotten the message. And when she walked up to him holding out her hands he looked her into the eye, calmer now and almost apologetic.

"I love you, Monica." In a much lower voice now as if he only wanted her to hear it and it made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck trying to melt into him, become one with him. Her lover. Her love.

"I love you too Chandler."

There it was, loud and clear, for everyone to hear - and see too in the sheer intensity of their kiss. They had done it, they were in love. For good. Finally.

"I—I thought you guys were just doing it, I didn't know you were in love!" From what she could see of Phoebe when she emerged from their embrace at last, made her look almost beside herself. Rachel too was clearly moved, gaping at her speechlessly with one hand over her heart, and Joey seemed almost choking.

"Dude!"

They were facing them now, still holding each other close, and Chandler couldn't seem to stop grinning as he held out a hand to Phoebe who shook it in good grace.

"And hats off to Phoebe. Quite a competitor! And might I say your breasts are still showing."

"God!" But she laughed nonetheless as she tried to button up again. Monica found that she couldn't stop smiling almost idiotically, wondering why everything still felt so unreal. Could this really be true? Was this really happening?

"All right! So that's it!" Joey rubbed his hands in glee. "It's over! Everybody knows!"

If only.

"Well actually, Ross doesn't …"

"Yes, and we'd appreciate it if no one told him yet." Chandler said decisively and she loved how he tightened his hold on her as he said it. Joey however looked ready to explode.

"WHY? Please, I really can't take it anymore! Why do we have to keep this up?"

"Well for one thing he's not here, is he? I don't know about you, but I really don't want to break this to him while he's still naked."

That almost broke Joey up. "That's right! He's still over there, and last time I checked he was helping Ugly Naked Guy packing all those gifts. And still naked!"

"Ugh!" Rachel grimaced. "But when will you tell him? Do you even want to tell him?"

They looked back at each other and found they couldn't look away. It made Phoebe chuckle and Joey roll his eyes again.

"Sure! Of course we'll tell him!"

"Yes, we will – just not now."

"But when?"

"Actually … we had planned tell you all together tomorrow. You know, on Valentine's Day."

"Awww!" Rachel put her hand on her breast again. "That's sooo sweet!"

"You wanted to tell us? Oh my god, if I'd known this we could have saved us all this – this …"

"Messing around?"

"Well – yeah?"

"Sorry, Pheebs."

"Oh well, it was fun for all that."

Fun? Yes, in a way – in a heart-stopping, gut-wrenching, eye-opening way - it had indeed been great fun.

But so so much more too. So much that she still felt unable to grasp yet. If only they could be alone for a bit now, to calm down and get a grip …

She wasn't sure, but she thought Rachel had just started to sense this and even wanted to say something to this end, when suddenly they all heard someone running down the hall. Immediately after that the door was thrown open and Ross, thankfully fully clothed again, burst into the room, grinning wildly and almost skipping with joy.

"GUESS WHAT?!"


	35. The Messing Game, part 3

After Monica had pushed him out of the bathroom quite forcibly, Chandler saw that Phoebe had retreated to the door again and started to hope against all better knowledge that she had given up – but no, she had only been conferring with Rachel. At least she had missed his ignominious stumbling – but, oh dear god, she had put the time-out to good use too, returning to the battlefield with new and quite formidable weaponry.

"So, this is my bra …"

Oh yes. There it was. Black with a white flowery pattern and very lacy, and, yes, rather revealing too. Chandler reflected wearily that a year ago – hell, half a year ago even, before London at any rate – this sight would have reduced him to a helplessly mumbling and quivering heap of goo for at least an hour, if not the rest of the day. It still managed to shake him a little, enough at least to make itself felt in his knees and his voice too, so the slight tremor in his answer wasn't entirely faked.

"It's very, very nice ..."

He even had to take a deep breath to steady himself and recall Monica's advice to always go into the offensive.

"Well, come here. I'm very happy we're gonna have all the sex."

It did make her blink, but unfortunately only that, and she recovered herself instantly.

"You should be. I'm very bendy."

God, what an image. And she was still not backing down. On the contrary, now she was coming even closer. And closer still, until she was standing right in front of him, with that damn bra and its content almost in his face, trying to lock his gaze while waiting for a twitch or a blink, anything that told her he was backing down … It made him think of a tennis match.

"I'm gonna kiss you now." Serving the ball and forcing him to return as good as he could.

"Not if I kiss you first."

As if he even wanted to, and for a fleeting moment he detected a bit of doubt again in her wide green eyes. But it wasn't enough to make her back down. Still not enough. And now she had gotten so close that he was breathing in her scent, even feeling the warmth from her skin on his. He remembered how he had asked Monica earlier how far he would have to go with her. Right now it looked like he would at least have to kiss her. For real. Kiss Phoebe! It didn't bear thinking. Oh god, how in the world could it have gotten out of hand, and so quickly and so far? That beautiful messing game where he and Monica were supposed to turn the tables on their friends and counter their evil schemes with their own even wickeder wiles had turned into a nightmare. It had worked so well, and been so exciting too, and so much fun – until now. Right now it was becoming – well, uncomfortable to say the least.

Very, very uncomfortable.

And not just for him alone. By now Monica must be in pure agony. If even the opening moves, the first balls so to speak of this match had already driven her to cleaning, there was no telling what she was going through now. Though of course he had a pretty good idea. It had to be his own agony multiplied by ten at least. More likely a hundred. Or a thousand.

Phoebe hesitantly put her hand on his waist and he reached out for her almost automatically with his right hand, only to jerk it back and put his left hand forward instead, resting it on her hip where Monica could see it – if she still could bear to watch. He didn't dare to look at the bathroom door, or even listen for any sounds from her. Even so, Phoebe took him by surprise when her next move was to grab his butt, even slightly squeezing it while she smiled at him oh so innocently. It did jolt him, so much in fact that his breath hitched and he averted his gaze for a moment before rallying himself again. Even so he had almost put his hand on her breast before he thought better of it and took hold of her shoulder instead. At his touch she exhaled quite noticeably and her smile wavered just a little, but she had herself under control again in no time. Now they were almost on the point of embracing, and the tension between them seemed thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Well, I guess there's nothing left for us to do but … but kiss." One last serve, hoping it would strike home, make her cave in and admit defeat. Please god, pretty please – but no.

"Here it comes. Our first kiss ..!" She was shaken, yes, and nervous too, but still determinedly, stubbornly holding her ground. Damn.

His gaze flickered towards the bathroom door for just a second before he focused on Phoebe again, trying to pull himself together. Monica couldn't help him, even if she wanted to. He was on his own in this. It didn't help really that Phoebe was almost as tall as he was, their eyes on the same level as their heads edged closer and closer, reducing the distance between them in slight jerks and twitches as if they were fighting an invisible force that pushed them forward in spite of themselves. He realized that he had closed his eyes only when he felt her breath on his lips and forced them open again, meeting her wide-eyed slightly shocked stare as she realized – as they both realized – that their lips, pursed and pressed together, were indeed touching now, that they were really really really –

Kissing.

Making out.

He and Phoebe.

He was making out with Phoebe. He was holding her shoulder, she was grabbing his ass, her breast was pushing against his chest, making him intensely grateful that he was still wearing his trusty sweater-vest, and their lips were pressed together.

Okay, granted, they were both keeping their mouths tightly shut, not allowing their lips even to soften slightly, let alone part – that would really be unthinkable, even for her.

Or would it?

It came to him then, as if in a flash. If he didn't stop this now, it would go on, regardless how much they both loathed it. There was absolutely no telling how far Phoebe would go. And the irony was that the farther she got the more respect she would lose for him. No matter how far he went, allowed her to go with him, she would always be convinced that he had been seduced by her, forever claim that it was her doing alone that had overwhelmed him. After the fact of course, when all was lost, when he had not only lost her respect but, much more importantly, Monica's.

Monica. The woman he loved.

This was so not worth it. Time to abandon ship now and go down with blazing colors. High time in fact, the highest possible time. He jerked his head back and pushed Phoebe away almost forcibly, taking a big step backwards too just to get some distance between them again.

"Okay! Okay! Okay! You win! You win!" Almost yelling now. "I can't have sex with you!"

"Ha!" Phoebe was laughing in triumph as much as in relief now. "And why not?!"

"Because I'm in love with Monica!"

Saying it out loud, in fact screaming it on top of his voice felt simply great. Liberating, lightening and uplifting actually. He wished he could shout it from the rooftops for everyone to hear, everyone in Manhattan, the city, the state. Dimly he saw Phoebe staring at him in total shock.

"You're - you're what?!"

Now Rachel and Joey came rushing in, surprise and wonder on their faces instead of glee and spite, but he had no eyes for them. Only for Monica who had thrown open the bathroom door and come to him, wide-eyed and smiling uncertainly, seemingly struck dumb with disbelief, as he kept pointing at himself and then at her in his effort to make this as clear and true as he possibly could.

"Love her! That's right, I … LOVE … HER! I love her!"

Right. Her. Her and no other. No one else in the whole wide world. He, Chandler, loved Monica, loved her with everything he had. When she stood before him holding out her hands and still staring at him so searchingly as if she couldn't quite believe her ears, he calmed a little again, reaching out for her with his hands on her hips and looking her into the eye as he repeated his declaration much lower as if it was only for her to hear.

"I love you, Monica."

That did it. It made her smile, a huge glorious smile as if she was lit up from within and glowing with it and look at him with so much adoration and love that he felt his knees begin to wobble.

"I love you too Chandler...!" She said it softly and yet so firmly as to leave no doubt whatsoever, putting her arms around his neck as he drew her to him so that it looked like one single movement, the two of them coming together like two halves merging to one whole being, their bodies fitting together smoothly and seamlessly as they kissed deeply, right there, out in the open, for everyone to see.

They had done it, they were in love. For good. Finally.

And their secret was finally out too.

"I—I thought you guys were just doing it, I didn't know you were in love!"

Under different circumstances Phoebe's complete transformation from seductive killer queen to emotional joyous friend would have triggered more than just a happy chuckle from him, but right now he felt too awesome and magnanimous for it to matter. Both Rachel and Joey looked on the point of welling up too, still gaping at them speechlessly as he and Monica slowly and almost reluctantly loosened their embrace again.

"Dude!"

Then they stood side by side facing their friends while still holding on to each other as if their life depended on it. Chandler felt like dancing his most special victory dance, but kept grinning instead in his joy and also a good deal of pride, as he generously shook hands with Phoebe.

"And hats off to Phoebe. Quite a competitor! And might I say your breasts are still showing."

"God!" And yet she still kept laughing while she turned her back to button up again.

"All right! So that's it!" Joey was grinning madly. "It's over! Everybody knows!"

Um …

"Well actually, Ross doesn't …" Monica piped up making everybody hush.

"Yes, and we'd appreciate it if no one told him yet." Chandler drew her closer as he said this as authoritatively as possible. They couldn't risk anyone blabbing it to Ross, not before tomorrow at least. Especially not now. But Joey's face darkened.

"WHY? Please, I really can't take it anymore! Why do we have to keep this up?"

"Well for one thing he's not here, is he? I don't know about you, but I really don't want to break this to him while he's still naked."

That cracked him up, just as he'd known it would. "That's right! He's still over at Ugly Naked Guy's! Last time I checked he was helping him pack all those gifts. And still naked!"

"Ugh!" Rachel winced. "But when will you tell him? Do you even want to tell him?"

He looked at Monica meeting her gaze and holding it while Phoebe chuckled and Joey rolled his eyes.

"Sure! Of course we'll tell him!"

"Yes, we will – just not now."

"But when?"

"Actually … we had planned tell you all together tomorrow. You know, on Valentine's Day."

"Awww!" Rachel put her hand to her heart. "That's sooo sweet ..!"

"You wanted to tell us? Oh my god, if I'd known this we could have saved us all this – this …"

"Messing around?"

"Well – yeah?"

"Sorry, Pheebs."

"Oh well, it was fun for all that."

Right. Fun. He supposed you could call it that … He felt Monica wince beside him and fervently wished that they could go somewhere quiet where they could be alone together for a while, just as long as it would take them to adjust to this surprising – to say the least – turn of events. Try to wrap their heads around it, and maybe celebrate it too, in their very own fashion …

The pause that had ensued as they all pondered Phoebe's last remark was suddenly cut short by the sound of someone running down the hall to his door. Just as he let go of Monica by pure instinct alone Ross came barging into the room, grinning like a maniac and almost jumping at them.

"GUESS WHAT?!"

Chandler was so grateful that his roommate was wearing all his clothes again, that the full meaning of Ross' behavior didn't sink in immediately and as usual he said the first thing that occurred to him.

"You attended a naked tea-party and your muffins won first prize?"

Ross nearly froze on the spot, gaping at him as the others turned their heads away or cracked up openly like Joey.

"What? How did you - - ?"

"Ross! We saw you!" Monica was grimacing now. "Over there … ugh!"

"Did it get you the apartment at least?" Rachel asked and Ross found his exuberance again.

"It sure did! Yeah! I got it! I've got Ugly Naked Apartment!"

"Oh YAY! I'm so happy for you!" Phoebe took his hands and they immediately started jumping around the kitchen, with Joey joining in. Chandler surreptitiously tried to inch closer to Monica again while he smiled approvingly at his soon-no-longer roommate's larking.

"Come on you guys! We need to celebrate this! Yoo-hoo!" But when Ross tried to pick Monica up, she wriggled out of his grasp.

"Ross! Stop it … What about Ben?!" That stopped him cold.

"Ben? Oh my god, I totally forgot –" He started to pat his pockets for his phone until he retrieved it, and then grimaced at the amount of messages he had missed.

"Yeah, okay, sorry guys, I've got to go –"

"That's alright, Ross."

"Really? But we're totally doing this tonight, okay?"

"Sure Ross."

"Put the champagne on ice! Wow, I'm so happy now! Woohoo!"

"Yeah, you are!"

"Bye, Ross, see ya later!"

When the door had closed behind him, all three of them turned around as one to stare at Monica and himself again as they grabbed for each other's hands as soon as Ross had left.

"Alright!" Joey was rubbing his hands again. "Look how happy he is! I bet if you tell him now, he'll be even happier!"

"No, Joey." Monica remained firm. "If we did it now, we'd just steal his thunder, and we don't want that. No, we'll do it tomorrow, as we planned it." Joey sulked a little at that, but gave in in good grace.

"Awwww…" Now Rachel came for Monica with outstretched arms. "I'm sooo happy for you …!" Chandler involuntarily stepped back a little and Monica rolled her eyes at him over her roommate's shoulder while she returned her embrace. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, me too actually." Phoebe crossed her arms in front of her chest. "So how did it happen?"

"What exactly?" Chandler avidly grasped the chance to play dumb while he tried to ignore Monica's and Rachel's emotional whisperings next to him.

"Why – this of course! All I know is that you were doing it, and now it turns out you're in love! How did that happen?"

"I don't know. I'm as much in the dark as you are." He found it hard to keep a straight face at her spluttering.

"But you – alright. Okay. How long has this been going on then?"

"Since London" they both said it together, while Monica gently disengaged herself from Rachel to take his hand again. Phoebe's eyes widened as she gaped at them.

"London?! You mean, you have been doing this since – that long?"

"Yes!" again they said it together in perfect unison and grinned happily at each other.

"No. No, I can't believe it. This is too much." Phoebe shook her head. "You really mean that all this time you were doing it and we didn't –"

"I did!" Joey crowed. "I found out first!" When Phoebe glared at him, he looked sheepish, but still winked at Chandler.

"Me too! I found out too!" Rachel was almost skipping now and clapping her hands together. "And I didn't want to give you away, but I'm soooo happy now that you're out!"

"Really? Are you sure you didn't want to mess around some more?"

"Aw, no! This is much better! But come on you guys, spill! I want **all** the details!"

"Actually …" they looked at each other and Chandler could see the torment in her eyes. It made him put his arm around her protectively and pull her close.

"Yes, actually we would appreciate it if you could give us a moment. Because we haven't – you know …"

While Phoebe looked a little put out by this and Joey just kept grinning and winking at them, Rachel for once seemed to catch on quite quickly.

"Oh totally! We'll catch up later, okay?" And she winked at Monica who suddenly looked rather dismayed.

"Actually, Rachel – I'm … I'm not sure I want –"

"Later!" Rachel insisted. "Come on guys, let's go. Joey!"

"But I wanted to sit in my chair!"

"JOO-EEY! Come on!"

"Oh, you can totally stay here, if you want" Chandler said. "Just as long as you don't mind us in my room …?" He winked at Joey who sighed deeply.

"Aw, you guys, no …"

"Come on, Joey!" Now Rachel almost pushed him bodily towards the door. "You can have my cookies!"

"Um, Rachel, actually they're my cook- - um, well, never mind." Monica waved them off. "Just, Joey, remember to take a napkin - - Okay, see you later, guys!"

"Bye! Until later!" And then the door closed behind them. They held still for a moment until they heard the door of #20 too close and then almost simultaneously heaved a deep sigh of relief, turning to face each other immediately after and laughing. Monica threw her arms around his neck and he caught her up against him and held her tight while their mouths searched for each other urgently.

"Ummm …. Oh god … oh my god!"

"Yes." He buried his fingers in her hair, claiming her lips over and over between his words. "Yes. We did it. It's over. We are out … we are out!"

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it!" She stared at him, her eyes only inches from his, and he wanted to lose himself in their intense blue. "And what you said –"

"Well, you said it too."

"But you said it first." He realized he could see the tears rising in her eyes just a split second before they spilled over her lashes. "You said it first! If you knew what that means to me …"

"Shshsh …" He tried to kiss the tears away as fast as they were spilling and pull her even closer at the same time. "You would have done the same in my place."

That made her laugh under her tears. "That's not what I meant. And no, I could never have done this."

"You mean you would have gone on making out with Phoebe? Why am I not surprised?"

She laughed and squeezed his shoulders. "Yeah – but I am so glad you didn't go on. So so glad."

"Well, I didn't know how else to get you to stop cleaning –"

For a split second she glared at him, then her gaze softened and she drew his head close again.

"Oh god, I love you sooo much … Oh … ummm … mmmh …"

As she said it he realized two things – that he was welling up himself quite a bit and also hardening against her, quite swiftly too, so fast actually it made him groan deeply and tighten his hold on her. Her breath hitched and her hands clenched on his shoulders almost convulsively as she pressed against him. For a fleeting moment he considered throwing her over his shoulder and run to his bedroom, but she was already clawing at his sweater vest and the belt of his pants and he immediately changed his mind, urging her toward the counter instead while pushing up her sweater. They kissed again and again, fumbling at their clothes all the while, and then she was sitting on the counter, shaking and moaning, desperately wrapping her legs around him and pressing his head against her breasts, her sweater and bra long since discarded. He had just succeeded in tugging her pants halfway down when the sound of #20's door opening froze them both in mid-kiss. They both held their breaths while they listened to the voices and footsteps of their friends in the hallway, only relaxing again when they finally receded. Then they looked at each other again and cracked up almost simultaneously.

"Mmmh … oh god … do you think we should put the chain on -?"

"I'm not going anywhere right now."

That cracked her up again and she laughed even harder when he growled playfully while he determinedly tugged her pants off.

"I think we're safe for now … Mmmh … how long until we have to join them?"

She wriggled a foot under the edge of his pants on his back and tugged them down with her toe, reaching out for his penis when it came free and closing her hand around it.

"I don't know … but I'd say however long this takes!" And still shaking with laughter she wrapped her legs firmly around his waist again, rocking to and fro and then screamed softly when he kissed her neck and breasts in sweet abandon. He pushed his hands under her buttocks to support her while she guided him in, groaning when he felt her hot wet tightness taking him in and enclosing him. They kissed deeply, their tongues entwining and rubbing against each other, and the last thing that occurred to him before he lost himself in the moment, in her, was how appropriate it was that they should do this here and now, the very spot where their friends had more or less forced them to acknowledge what had grown and flourished for so long now between them and which could no longer be denied. The love they had so miraculously discovered and shared and that he was determined to commit to now, no matter what it would take. The love that was for keeps.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N:_ Yes, I know, I said 2 or max. 3 final chapters, right? Guess I was wrong then :-/ Actually I fully intended to close this off with the last chapter about Ross finding out in Chandler's view, but when I started writing this chapter, I realized that if I left out Chandler's view of the final confrontation it would forever haunt me down and eventually kick my ass. Plus it would mean that Monica would get one less chapter than Chandler and that really wouldn't do at all now, would it?_

_And yes, the next chapter will definitely be the last chapter of this story. But not to worry, the next series is already taking shape in my mind and it'll pick up right where this one leaves off. I don't think I could stop writing about those two lovelies ever at this point even if I tried ;-)  
_

_And, oh my god, you guys, this is now closing in to 200 reviews! 200! I can't begin to tell you how wonderful this feels and how happy it makes me. Of course it's also sooo encouraging. Thank you so much, everybody, all of you!_


	36. The Wrath of Ross

He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. It was all Monica could think of, every single minute after Chandler had said or yelled it rather, in every waking moment, for the rest of the evening, in the following night until they finally fell asleep, and again every time she had woken up in the night and remembered once more, always with a new rush of pure happiness as she nestled close to him with her arm wrapped around him before she went to sleep again. Then in the morning when she had woken up before him and watched him sleep, marveling at her happiness and how wonderful and surreal it all felt. She kept telling herself that she really deserved it, that it was in fact high time she found that happiness after all that time and effort, disappointments and frustration, and that he was everything she had always wanted, and yet still found it hard to believe. Especially when, after he'd woken up and drawn her close for a good long cuddle, he'd excused himself for a quick dash to the bathroom and promptly collided with a half-asleep Rachel on his return. Monica who was standing at her bedroom door found then that she couldn't stop laughing in pure joy – both at Rachel's half shocked, half intrigued (and also rather salacious) expression or his resigned embarrassment. As she shut the door behind them again she caught herself wishing that she and Chandler could be alone right now, on their own, but firmly banished that thought again. This was not the time to worry about such things. Everything would come in its own time, just like it had done so far. It only needed patience. Now was the time to enjoy what she had achieved so far: having a boyfriend to spend the night and wake up with in the morning, a boyfriend she could wrap her arms around and stifle her giggles on his chest while he kissed her neck and pushed up her nightgown as he steered her back to the bed, a boyfriend who had her moaning and screaming within minutes in wild abandon despite her determination to remain quiet for Rachel's sake which she had entirely forgotten about as soon as she felt Chandler's mouth on her breasts, his hands on her buttocks and thighs, his erect penis pressing urgently against her.

Their Sunday breakfast later had felt quite strange and tense too, as Rachel and Phoebe kept shooting curious looks at them and winking while Joey was stoically digging into his pancakes and Ross still couldn't shut up about his new apartment, never giving them a single chance to break their secret to him even if they had wanted to do so at that time. He was especially ecstatic about the fact that Ugly Naked Guy had decided to move out this very Sunday so he would be able to take over in the late afternoon already, right after all their neighbor's belongings had been cleared out. To speed this up Ross had even promised to help him with the moving, and to bring his friends too - that he had of course quite forgotten to ask first.

"I'm sorry, I've got a client later. Two clients actually. You know, an old couple, so it's almost two in one." Phoebe winked at Monica who just stared back stonily. "Well, anyway, it means that I can't come." Ross' expression plainly said that he didn't buy it, but he let it go.

"And I'm visiting my father" Rachel said, meeting Ross' scowl firmly.

"What? You never said! What are you visiting him for?"

"What do you mean, what for? He's my father! Well, if you must know, I need to ask him for money …"

Ross sighed deeply and turned to Monica. "But you will come, won't you? I really really need you there!"

"Ross, I need to prepare for the Valentine party –"

"Oh no. Do you really have to do that? Why?"

"Ross! I asked you all like a week ago and you all agreed –"

"But that was before I found this apartment! Oh please, Monica, we can have the party later. Tell you what, why don't we order pizza tonight, when we're done?"

"Pizza?! But –"

"Okay, great!"

"Joey, no! I wanted to do something special –"

"And it'll be my treat!"

"WHAT?"

Ross grinned uncertainly as they all stared at him. "Yeah, my treat. What's so funny?"

"Oh … nothing … are you sure though?"

"Yes! Phoebe, what are you doing?" She had been groping around in her bag and now triumphantly held up a small book. "What's that? A calendar?"

"Yes. I wanted to mark the date. The day that Ross agreed to pay for our pizza."

"Oh come on! I've treated you before …" his voice died away when their chuckles and scornful expressions registered and he threw up his hands. "Okay, fine! But I'll do it, I promise. But I really need your help today, okay? Yes, I know about you and you, I was talking to Monica. And you two. I mean, think about it, guys! I could be out of your hair by tonight!"

Joey and Chandler exchanged a weary glance and sighed in unison.

"Yeah, okay."

"You'll really spring for a Joey special? Then, okay."

"Aw, thanks guys. And Monica –"

"Ross, I really wanted to do this –"

"But I really need you!" Oh god, now he put on his pleading puppy look. "Look, I didn't want to gross you out before, but Ugly Naked Guy's really a slob and this apartment is a real mess."

"He's right, Mon." Rachel grimaced. "I saw it." And Phoebe nodded too.

"Yeah, I can't believe you sat there naked. This must have used a lot of guts!"

Ross smirked. "Well, I really really really wanted to have this apartment … So, Monica, what do you say? I promise you'll get your party later!"

A part of her somewhere deep in the back of her head balked at this and kept telling her that it was a trick and she shouldn't fall for it so easily, but the mental image of the messy apartment proved too alluring and she knew resistance would be futile. With Ross spending the whole day at his new apartment she had to rethink her strategy anyway. Plus it meant she could be near Chandler. All day.

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Aw, thank you!" Ross hugged her tightly and then jumped up to run to the window and to stare at the apartment again, leaving half a bagel on his plate that Joey snapped up as soon as his back was turned.

"Oooh, I can't wait to show it to Ben!"

Monica sighed and rolled her eyes, already mentally crossing her cherished party off for good. But maybe this was the right way to go after all. Ross had become so unpredictable lately that there was absolute no way to tell how he was going to react to their reveal. Picking the right moment would require a lot of thought and care. They would need to wait until he had taken over the apartment and calmed down again. Then, when it was finished and they were all back together in her apartment –or maybe the guys' - they would sit him down, maybe break out some more champagne, or a bottle of wine and then, when he was relaxed and happy, she and Chandler would stand before him hand in hand and tell him, maybe with Joey and the girls standing by to hold him down if he should jump at them. That was clearly the way to do it. The best way.

She just wished it was over already.

After a few minutes more fidgeting at the window Ross couldn't wait any longer, just as she had known he couldn't, and left ahead of them when he couldn't persuade them to finish their breakfast early. And sure enough, as soon as the door had closed behind her brother, Rachel and Phoebe turned to her as one with almost identical expressions of intent anticipation, and Monica took a deep breath, bracing herself. Chandler beside her made a great show of taking up his paper in a very casual manner which almost cracked her up, especially when Phoebe stared at him balefully.

"Alright, Monica, spill!"

"Tell us everything!"

She tried her best to stare them down.

"What exactly do you want to know? There's not that much to tell really."

"Not much? Come on, Monica, this is huge!"

"You think so?" Chandler quipped from behind the paper, but Rachel ignored him.

"You kept us in the dark for – what? Four months?"

"Five almost."

"Oh my god. Five months. You've been sneaking around for FIVE months, behind our backs, never telling us –"

"Why did you do that? Why didn't you tell us?"

Monica spread her hands exasperatedly. "Why? Because! Because it would have destroyed everything!"

"Oh come on …"

"Yes, it would! You would never have let us figure it out on our own. You would have asked us every single day where we were, how we felt, if we were serious yet – it wouldn't have worked!"

"So, are you serious?"

"PHOEBE!"

"Just kidding. You're right though, we would have done all that."

"See?"

"Yeah. But, can you tell us now?"

Monica sighed deeply. "Alright, Phoebe, what do you want to know?"

"Well … did you really hook up in London?"

Chandler looked at her questioningly motioning to the door and when she smiled resignedly and nodded, he neatly folded his paper again and turned to Joey while he pushed his chair back. "Joey, I think now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the - well, Ross." Monica wasn't sure, but she thought that Joey looked quite relieved at this. At least he stood up fairly quickly and contented himself with only one more bagel that he stuffed into his pocket on his way to the door. Chandler followed at a more sedate pace after he'd kissed her lingeringly goodbye.

"Bye, sweetie!" As they waved, Rachel turned around to smile after him and Phoebe suddenly frowned.

"Wait a moment … Oh my god, that time when he kissed us all, that was because – oh no. Oh no! I don't believe this!"

"Yeah … that was stupid. But he did pull it off, didn't he?"

Phoebe pouted, refusing to comment on this. "So, when did you do it with Joey?"

"WHAT?"

Phoebe opened her eyes wide, her expression carefully blank. "You didn't do it with him too?"

"NO! Phoebe …!"

"Alright, fine!"

"Phoebe, I never did it with Joey. Really, believe me! That whole thing with the photo and the video camera-"

"Oooh my god, I totally forgot about that!" Rachel nearly jumped from her seat.

"Yeah, it was just cover-up for me and Chandler. I made that photo for Chandler."

Phoebe pouted again. "Alright, so you didn't do it with Joey. But you did think about it, didn't you?"

Monica opened her mouth and shut it again, words suddenly failing her and Phoebe settled back, smirking. "Thought so."

"Phoebe, I – it was just at first … I was really really drunk and I thought only Joey would do it with me, but then he wasn't there and Chandler was – and – and – it's really none of your business!"

"Oh well. Your loss."

"What? Phoebe, that's – insane. Chandler was – he was amazing. Believe it or not." She had long since realized that Phoebe was only stringing her along and desperately wanted to stop, but found herself unable to. For some reason or other it suddenly seemed vitally important to convince her friends about her veracity, even if she had to ram it down her throats.

"It couldn't have been better. He was everything I wanted. We had wanted to stop, to let it be a London thing only, but we couldn't because it had been so great."

"Oh sweetie …" Rachel reached out for her and she let herself be hugged while Phoebe shrugged and sniffed dismissively.

"Okay, alright, you don't have to be so adamant. So you and Chandler are good together? Okay …"

"Not just good. We are great together!"

"Then I'm happy for you. And I hope you will stay that way too."

"Me too …" Rachel added softly. Monica wanted to leave it at that, but something inside her still balked.

"Of course we will! Why shouldn't we?"

Phoebe shrugged. "Well, it's Chandler, so - -"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing! I'm sure he's going to be great. But you never know what will happen, do you?"

Monica took a deep breath to calm herself. "Well I do. I'm sure it will work. Because I love him."

"And he loves you." Rachel added. "Oh, Monica, I never would have believed that this would happen. When I overheard you on the phone I really thought you were – you know, doing it, but not that you were so much in love …!"

Monica sat back and closed her eyes. "I know. I guess we weren't really in love then, not at first. It just came gradually. And yes, I'm really sorry we had to do it this way. But you all had your own problems and things going on - Phoebe, you had the triplets, and the whole thing with Ross on top of that …"

"Oh my god, Ross! Are you really going to tell him today?"

Monica shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I really want to, but – well, we'll see how it goes."

There was a slight pause while they all pondered the problem, then Phoebe started up suddenly and looked at her watch.

"Oh shoot! Sorry, but I really have to get to my clients now –"

"Oh, I thought you'd just said that to get out of helping with the moving?"

"Yeah, well, that too, but I really have these clients today. They're paying me extra too, because it's Sunday, and I don't have a father to go to for money, so - well, okay, see you later!"

"But wait, Phoebe, when will you be back?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll be here for the reveal. In fact, I wouldn't miss it for the world! Bye!"

Monica sank back on her seat sighing deeply as the door closed behind Phoebe and Rachel smiled sympathetically.

"Oh, don't worry, Mon, everything will be alright. You'll see. I think Ross will be really happy about this!"

"Really?"

"Of course! Think about it! His best friend and his little sister! He'll be overjoyed!"

"Well … but he's been so – unstable lately. What if he gets violent?"

"He won't, not Ross. He's just a big softie. You'll see!"

"But still –"

"And we'll be here, so he won't be able to do a thing. It'll all turn out great!" Rachel grabbed for her hand and squeezed it, her eyes glinting suddenly. "So, Mon – can we talk now?"

She had been dreading this very moment ever since Chandler's sudden reveal, and now swallowed nervously.

"I guess …"

"Oh come on, Monica. You owe it to me!"

Monica sighed. "I know! I know! And I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry I lied to you. It just – it wouldn't have worked. We couldn't tell anyone."

"But you can tell me now, can't you? Come on, I want to know everything!"

There was a slight pause while Monica stared unseeingly at her plate before her. Then she got up and started to clear the table.

"No." she said at length and when Rachel opened her mouth in protest, "No, sweetie … not everything. I need to – there are things that I, that we – need to keep to ourselves, that only concern us. I'm sorry, but I can't talk about that."

Rachel's face fell at that and she looked away and bit her lip.

"Well … alright."

Monica looked surprised. "Really?"

"Well yeah! I can understand that."

"Do you? Do you really?"

"Yes! It doesn't mean that I like it, but - - yeah! I think so!" And when Monica still looked skeptic, "I didn't give you away, did I? Come on, you have to admit, I could have let on."

"You did try –"

"Yes, at first, because I was so mad when you lied to me." Suddenly she chuckled. "You really had me there. I still couldn't believe it, even though I'd talked to Joey about it, and when you denied it, I was really confused."

Monica just smiled a little wistfully and Rachel leaned back in her seat.

"Though we really should have found out sooner. All those weird things happening … Oooh, remember when I walked in on you?"

"Oh god yes!"

"So you were really waiting for Chandler – oh my god. And when you said your secret boyfriend was the best you ever had-"

"It made him dance on the table." Rachel clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh my god, of course! That's why he did that! Oh my god …"

"And it was his underwear that Phoebe found on the sofa. Not Joey's." Rachel's face nearly turned purple at that. "So now can you understand why I couldn't tell you?"

Rachel dabbed at her eyes. "Yeah … oh god, yes, I think so." Then she sighed deeply. "Alright. But can you tell me one thing at least? Just one?"

"That depends …"

"Is he the One?"

Monica stared. "What - - um. Oh god." Then she took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, I think he is."

Rachel's gaze softened. "Really? Are you sure?"

Monica sat down again, facing her over the table and smiling.

"Yes. Yes I'm sure."

"Oh … Monica, oh god, I'm so happy for you! Yes, I am!" Suddenly she grinned. "And I have to say, I kinda admire your guts too."

"My guts? Why?"

"I don't think I could have done that. Gone to one of the guys for sex just like that –"

"Well, I was really drunk. And really frustrated. And lonely." Monica grimaced. "If you had been there-"

Rachel's eyes widened. "Oh my god! You're right!"

"And if you hadn't gone to Greece, we probably wouldn't have carried on here either."

"Oh wow! So what you're saying is that it couldn't have happened if – if I had done things differently."

Monica smiled. "Well, I guess my mother's to blame too, and that guy who thought I was Ross' mother, but yeah, I really think most of it was your doing."

"Ooh, that's really great. But say, doesn't that mean you kinda owe me - ?"

"Nice try."

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By evening all of them except Ross and Phoebe were back in the guys' apartment, watching TV and relaxing while they waited for Ross who had left them when they had finally finished clearing out the apartment, and merely told them that he had 'to see someone about something'. Monica vaguely thought that she should be annoyed about this, or maybe anxious, but she was too tired to be either. And too horny. Sitting in the Barcalounger with Chandler or rather almost lying on him while they cuddled and exchanged little kisses every now and then did that to her, and she knew that Chandler was not only very aware of it, but felt the same way. Nothing else mattered to her right now, there would be time enough to deal with Ross once he returned …

"Hey, you two! Get a room!" That was Joey of course who now scowled when Chandler smiled at him and slowly got up, drawing her up with him.

"Um … why, that's a great idea, Joe. I totally forgot we have a room here." And with an arm around her he started to steer her towards the bedroom. Joey's expression changed to one of alarm.

"Wait, in your room? Ugh, I don't want to hear that!" She had already opened her mouth to retort when Chandler tightened his hold on her and she suddenly realized that there was nothing she wanted more right now than to be alone with him – preferably where nobody could see or hear them.

"Um, actually, I don't think I want that either – ", Rachel piped up apologetically from the sofa.

"Why don't you go to your apartment?"

"But what about Ross?"

"He won't be back anytime soon."

"I wish he was though, I'm starving!"

Of course he was. She grinned at Chandler and without further ado they went to the door and across the hall, their arms around each other and pressing close together. Then they were in her apartment and when she closed the door behind them, Chandler put the chain on.

"Just you know, in case Phoebe walks in on us" he explained and she laughed.

"Or maybe Ross!" Now Chandler's expression changed to one of horror and he even checked the door again to make sure the chain held which made her laugh again.

"Oh come on, it's safe! Soo … I take it you don't want to do it in the bedroom?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that … but on the other hand, we do have some more options now, haven't we? Uh, where are you going?" He followed her to the window and put his arms around her from behind, sliding his hands up and down her sides and over her hips. "Checking on Ross? He hasn't even moved in yet."

"I know! Just wanted to see something."

"And what?" Now one hand crept under her shirt and inched its way towards her breasts while he kissed her neck.

"You know, what Joey said yesterday, about Phoebe and Rachel seeing us from there."

"Ah. Okay –", he rested his chin on her shoulder as he gazed alongside her over to Ugly Naked – former Ugly Naked Guys' apartment. Even though she had spent half the day over there, packing, clearing out and cleaning (Ross had been right, the apartment had been a right mess), she still couldn't get used to the fact that their weird gross neighbor was gone for good. No more peeking across the yard with guilty fascination and horror, checking what the King of Naked Lard might be up to this day. She wondered if it would even be half as fun to check on her brother that way and thought rather not.

"You know, this might actually be the last time we will be able to do it here" Chandler remarked casually, and she turned slightly in his arms to look at him.

"You mean now? Here?"

"Well, the last time was rather spectacular, even for our standards, so- - ummph, mmmh -"

She didn't even let him finish the sentence, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him hard until her breath gave out, all of a sudden frantic with desire. He held her against him with one hand on the small of her back pressing her against him and the other under her thigh, rubbing against her while she clawed at his shirt and pants. When his tongue pushed into her mouth she tried to take as much of it in as she could, moaning and panting impatiently. The way he loosened her bra then and pushed down the zipper of her slacks at the same time made her want to scream, and when she realized that they didn't need to be quiet, not anymore, not ever again, she moaned loudly, working herself slowly towards screaming, yelling at the top of her voice when she felt him cupping and kneading her buttocks, his fingertips already probing for her clit. They swayed to and fro in front of the window for a little while longer until she couldn't hold out any more and let herself sink to the floor, pulling him down with her. She ended up on top of him, lying on him full length, pushing up his t-shirt while they kissed, with his hands still busy at her breasts and between her legs. Somewhere at the edge of her attention she heard indistinct shouting, but couldn't bring herself to care ...

"**Chandler!**"

What the hell?! It sounded like someone screaming Chandler's name, yelling his head off and at her apartment door too -

"**CHANDLER!**"

It was Ross. Her brother, and now he was furiously rattling the door trying to open it while he continued to scream through the crack -

"Chandler, I **saw **what you were doing through the window! Chandler, **I saw** what you were doing to my sister! **Now get out here!"**

She had jumped up and started to pull her pants up almost before she had fully realized what was going on. Ross had found out. Her brother had – oh my god, it didn't bear thinking.

Chandler too had jumped up as if someone had set fire under his ass and pulled up his zipper so fast it almost caught.

"Well! Listen, we had a good run." He tried hard to appear casual, but his wide eyes and the breathless tremor in his voice were a dead giveaway – not that she could blame him. "What was it? Four? Five months? I mean, that's more than most people have in a lifetime! So, good-bye, take care, bye-bye then!"

When he kissed her hurriedly and then started to scramble on the desk at the window, she realized that he really wanted to run.

"What are you doing?!"

"Oh, I'm going on the lam." Almost conversationally, but she could feel him shaking under her hands. More than anything it brought her back to reality again. And made her feel indignant too – no scratch that. It made her hopping mad. What in the world gave Ross the right to scare them like that? How dare he?

"Come on Chandler, come on, I can handle Ross." It was only her brother after all, she had handled him ever since she was old enough to walk. She could handle this too.

So she marched to the door, tagging Chandler behind her, hardly aware that her shirt was buttoned up wrong and her bra still loose, to face down her seething brother, who was pressing his face against the crack while frantically fumbling at the chain in his efforts to undo it. "Hold on!" When she glared at him sternly and slapped his hand, he drew it back reluctantly. For a split second she hesitated, wondering if this was really wise, but then pushed the thought away and opened the door, facing him squarely.

"Hey Ross. What's up bro?"

Their eyes locked and held and for a fleeting moment she actually thought she could get him to back off. But then Chandler inadvertently moved behind her and Ross immediately charged, pushing her to the side as he jumped on him like a mad bull. The next thing she knew they were already chasing each other around the kitchen table, with Chandler seemingly running for his life and Ross in hot pursuit, practically frothing at the mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Once around the kitchen table Chandler blindly headed for her, taking refugee behind her back while she tried to wedge herself between him and her wrathful brother.

"Hey, what's - what's going on?!" Oh thank god, Rachel and Joey had finally come to investigate, and their arrival did seem to put a slight damper on Ross' rage. Hopefully they wouldn't make it worse ... Still, she was glad that Chandler took it upon himself to explain.

"Well, I think, I **think** \- Ross knows about me and Monica ..."

"Dude! He's right there!" Oh Joey …

Now Ross stood up straight to vent his rightful anger at them.

"I thought you were my best friend, this is my sister! My best friend and my sister! I - I cannot believe this!"

The way he said it, with quite a bit of hurt mixed in the indignation, did make her feel guilty after all. They really shouldn't have kept him in the dark so long. And now Chandler finally asserted himself again.

"Look, we're not just messing around! I love her. Okay, I'm in love with her."

It made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet again. Just like that her impatience and disgust at Ross' mad behavior vanished and she reached out to take his hand.

"I'm so sorry that you had to find out this way." She put her arm around Chandler, thus creating a bond between him and her brother, who was now staring at them with suspiciously narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry, but it's true, I love him too ..!"

In the laden silence that followed they could have heard a pin drop. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Joey wincing and Rachel staring at them wide-eyed. Ross seemed almost frozen as he considered them, his expression still mistrustful – until it changed, almost in the blink of an eye, to one of pure heartfelt happiness, so fast it left her breathless.

"My best friend and my sister! I cannot believe this!"

To be honest, she couldn't either. Talk about mood swings! And now he crowded in on them joyfully to hug them both at the same time, and motioning to Rachel and Joey to come closer.

"You guys probably wanna get some hugs in too, huh? Big news!"

Rachel smiled indulgently. "Awww, no, it's okay, we've actually known for a while …"

Uh-oh. She could actually feel Ross stiffening as he let her go to confront them up close, his face darkening again.

"What? What? What?! You guys knew?!"

Rachel flinched back and Joey suddenly looked as if he wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor.

"You **all** knew and you didn't tell me?!"

Rachel swallowed desperately. "Well, Ross, we were worried about you. We didn't know how you were going to react –"

There was a pause again during which Ross digested this, only to perform another complete turnaround in the blink of an eye. These see-saw mood changes were really unnerving. What could have brought her brother to this?

"You were worried about me? You didn't know how I was going to react?" As he reached out to hug them both, they all let out deep sighs of relief, Joey most of all.

"Okay, all right, whew! Now what do you say we all clear out of here and let these two lovebirds get back down to business?!" When Ross glared at him, he frantically tried to backpedal. "Hey-hey-hey, I-I'm just talking here, he's the one doing your sister!"

"JOEY!"

"What? You were doing it, didn't you?"

He had a point there, but more important, she could see her brother start smoldering again and hurried to distract him.

"Ross? Ross! Snap out of it, okay?"

"Hey! What's going on? Ooooh, have you told him already?!"

"Pheebs! There you are! Hey, guess what? Ross found about Monica and Chandler!"

"What? How did you do that?! Oh no, I knew I should have come back sooner!"

"Phoebe, you knew too?"

Phoebe looked at him in surprise while she took off her coat. "Well – yeah. But only since yesterday. Oh isn't it great? When did you find out?"

"Right now, I saw them through the window when I was - - oh my god! Donald!" He put his hands to his head, groaning. "Oh no, I totally forgot about him!"

"Who's Donald?" But Ross had already rushed to the window and started to jump around and wave in front of it frantically. "Donald! Hey!" When that apparently didn't help, he tore open the side window and climbed out on the balcony, shouting at the top of his voice. By then they were all at the window and looking at Ross' apartment where they could dimly see the figure of a man standing in the living-room and now hesitantly returning their wave. When Ross almost seemed to fall over the balcony railing, he drew back in obvious alarm.

"HOLD ON, I'M COMING!" Ross shouted at the top of his voice and then started to climb down the fire escape before they could hold him back.

"Ugh, I hope they fixed that last bit – " Joey craned his head to watch and winced when they all heard a short scream and a thud. "I guess they didn't. Poor Ross … Oh there he is. Can't have been that bad after all."

"He is limping though …"

"Aw that's just a sprain. He'll get over it."

She felt Chandler's arm slipping around her waist and gratefully leaned back against him, closing her eyes while he stroked her hair. It was over. They had done it. Their secret was out, the secrecy finally over. They had taken the step to the next level of their relationship, made it official and public. 21 weeks to the day after they had brought what they had started in London over to New York and kept at it through all their problems, doubts and failings, every crisis only serving to draw them closer together afterwards. She was quite sure that they would continue on this path just like she knew very well that it would need a lot of work and also a good portion of luck.

But the chance was there and it was very real. And she had set her mind on taking it and working it out, cost it what may.

They just had to stay on London Time.

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A/N. Whew. I can't believe this story is finally complete! I must admit that as sad as this makes me it's also something of a relief. To chronicle the story of our favorite couple week by week, especially during those longer breaks between episodes where I had to make everything up from scratch, but also doing justice to the key episodes wasn't easy. But I really loved doing it all throughout those twenty months or so that this took, and I still feel the same way about it. Writing fanfiction hasn't really changed my life, but it has definitely enriched it. Not least because it brought me close to so many lovely people here, writers and readers like me, and I take this opportunity now to give thanks were thanks are due.

First of all there's Starbuckmeggie and Tropicalsummerbreeze, the best fellow-writer/reader and the very best reader ever, and also the best friends and supporters anyone could wish for. I don't think I could have done it without your reviews, comments, PMs, advice or simply just your being there for me. When I started out here I never even dreamed that not only getting to know but also getting so close to such amazing friends was even possible. The same applies to fellow writers StargazingM31 (also for her many beta-reads) and Soligblomma, both of whom sadly seem to have abandoned us entirely for another fandom (I'm not sure they'll even get to read this), of course my dear Simplymondler, and Sere Bing, Matteney and Kimprobable (who I really would like to talk to again – pretty please?) with their wonderful stories, and, last but absolutely not least, BobtheRat who not only manages to make another ship totally fascinating (seriously – at least take a look at David's letter at the end of chapter 11 of 'Conversations after and before' – it's soo good!) but also proved a great sounding board and gave me quite a few useful impulses. Then also to all you who "only" read (but where would we be without you?!) and reviewed soooo many times and chapters again and again, especially Chrisi2503 whose reviews are always and ever so honest and insightful and true, and Singmyangel on whom I've come to depend so much, my special thanks. I know that writing reviews is hard, much harder than one would think, so I love you especially for doing it so often for me. Also EveEvelina, Grace, Judy, Mondler2014, RupeeGal15, Hadley, hugefriendsfan00 and various guests, plus all the lovely people who 'only' favorited the story and/or chose to follow it, and finally all those countless people all over the world who leave their traces in my traffic stats. I'm forever thrilled by your showing up there every single time I look at them, even after two years here on the board, and I hope I won't let you down ever.

If you liked this, stay tuned for the next installment. I'm not quite sure yet how far I will take it and if the next break should be Vegas or the engagement, but I'll work it out soon – that's a promise. So take care and bye bye then! For now …


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